Shared Sorrow
by Red Hardy
Summary: The Hardy family hadn't seen Laura's sister Carole or her husband Jeff in eighteen years – ever since a catastrophe involving Joe caused them to sever all ties. Now Jeff Cutter has shown up on their doorstep, begging for Fenton's help. Can the Hardys put aside their anger and resentment long enough to offer aid?
1. Chapter 1

A/N: So... it's been about six years, I think, since I've posted anything here. Life got in the way and threw me a few curveballs - and I thank everyone who offered their thoughts, prayers and kindness during that time. I kept all of your messages and re-read them many, many times. I can't begin to tell all of you how much they helped! I believe everything happens for a reason, even if you don't know what that reason is at the time so when life does throw those curveballs at you, if you just keep putting one foot in front of the other eventually you come out on the other side. I think I made it to the other side and life is pretty good again. I still miss my boy Rebel every single day, but my "new" baby Deuce (not really so new - he's 3 1/2 years old now!) has helped fill the void in my life and the hole in my heart; and he got me through some pretty rough times.

As for the story, it's the next one in my series. I wrote it about seven or so years ago, before life blew up in my face. I did have it beta'd and proof read it way back then when I was getting ready to post it, but I will honestly say I haven't looked at it since. So if you find any mistakes, errors, continuity issues, etc., feel free to let me know. All comments, positive as well as constructive criticism, are welcome. I try to write the Hardys as real people. They're not perfect. They have flaws. They have faults. They make mistakes. Just wanted to give a little 'heads up'. ;-) As with all my other stories, this one is complete so it won't be abandoned halfway through. I'll try to post chapters 2-3 times a week. Hopefully I still remember how to do it!

**Shared Sorrow**

**Chapter 1**

Jeff Cutter pulled his rental car to a stop across from the large home on the corner of High and Elm Streets. Killing the engine, he looked at the house noting only the porch light was glowing, indicating the occupants weren't home. Jeff had anticipated Fenton and Laura Hardy might not be home when he arrived, but hadn't wanted to announce his visit ahead of time. He knew he was unwelcome in the Hardy home; his brother-in-law had made that abundantly clear in their final conversation all those years ago. Not that he blamed the man at all, considering what Jeff's one moment of lapsed attention had cost Fenton Hardy and his family.

Settling back to wait, he gazed at the house. Hoping to keep the all-consuming guilt at bay for a while, he recalled bittersweet memories of happier times within those walls. The birthday parties, the Christmas and Thanksgiving holidays, the cookouts on lazy summer days… if he concentrated, Jeff could almost hear the adults' laughter mingling with the children's squeals of delight.

His son and daughter were the same ages as their cousins, Laura and Fenton's two sons. Frank Hardy and Kevin Cutter had been born two months apart, while their respective younger siblings, Joe Hardy and Kelly Cutter, had come into the world only two days apart. The four children had been almost inseparable, owing in large part to the extremely close relationship shared by their mothers - his wife Carole, and her younger sister, Laura Hardy.

'_Had been…'_ Jeff thought sadly.

The memory resurfaced in agonizing detail as the guilt ate away another piece of his soul. Not a day went by that he didn't wish he could turn back the clock and change what had transpired that afternoon. The passage of time hadn't dimmed the images or emotions one bit. If anything they grew clearer and more painful with each recollection…

_Leaning back on his elbows, Jeff reclined on the blanket that was cushioned by the lush grass beneath it. Ever vigilant, he never took his eyes off the group of children playing several yards away. He easily picked out his own two children, Kevin and Kelly but had a little more difficulty tracking his nephew, Joe. He often thought if he looked up the words 'perpetual motion' in the dictionary, there would be a picture of six-year-old Joe Hardy; the child was in constant motion. Even when he was asked to sit for whatever reason - to eat a meal, watch television or have a story read to him - the tow-headed little boy was still moving, fidgeting, gesturing... laughing and talking a mile a minute. _

_Shaking his head, Jeff smiled as he recalled the tangle of sheets and blankets he had encountered that morning when he'd gone in to wake his nephew. It had taken a good thirty seconds for him to find Joe buried in the knotted bedding, proof positive that even sleep couldn't completely still the overactive child. _

_Chuckling to himself, Jeff recalled Fenton once commenting that engaging in hand-to-hand combat with the world's most hardened criminals wasn't nearly as tiring as a single afternoon spent trying to keep up with his younger son. He'd always had the feeling Fenton was only half joking._

_To Jeff, watching as his three charges played tag with a group of children from the nearby orphanage, Joe seemed to be a blur of movement. He ricocheted from one end of the grassy area to the other, successfully avoiding all attempts by the other children to make him 'It'. At times it seemed to Jeff that his nephew was almost teasing the other kids, letting them get close enough to think they might have a chance before he darted away. _

_Joe's infectious laughter echoed above the other children's and Jeff couldn't help but smile. Once again, he marveled at his nephew's perennially sunny disposition. He'd never seen such a happy child before, or one who delighted in sharing that joy with everyone around him - children and adults alike. Jeff fervently hoped that as his nephew grew up, he never lost that youthful jubilance. He watched Joe happily evade the other children when a child's piercing scream suddenly grabbed his attention. _

'_Kelly!'_

_With a parent's 'internal radar', he immediately zeroed in on his daughter. She was clutching her brother's hand tightly, tears streaming down her face and wailing at the top of her lungs as Kevin guided her back to the safety of their parents' arms. It took only a few seconds for Jeff to see the skinned knee and scrapes on her chin were minor injuries. As Carole and Kevin tried to soothe the sobbing child, Jeff planted a kiss on the top of her head and stood up. Turning around he was slightly embarrassed to find Kelly's diva-like performance had garnered the attention of everyone within hearing range. He shrugged and gave the other parents a rueful smile, relieved to see several nod in understanding._

_With the 'crisis' over, everyone returned to their own activities as Jeff scanned the group of children for the familiar white-blonde hair of his nephew. He frowned when he wasn't able to immediately pick Joe out of the crowd, wondering how it was possible to miss the curly mop of hair that shone like a beacon in the sun. Taking a few steps forward, he looked to the left, scanning the area near the trees with no luck. Beginning to panic, he jerked his head to the right, anxiously checking the parking lot. Nothing._

_Aware of the knot that was forming in his stomach, Jeff rushed forward his heartbeat increasing with each step. He circled the group of children from the orphanage, calling out his nephew's name._

"_Joe? Joe, it's time to go…" he called out, not surprised to hear a frantic edge to his voice. "JOE! Where are you?!"_

_Seeing the growing panic in his eyes, several other parents realized what must have happened. Those who had been captivated by Joe's outgoing, mischievous personality volunteered to help Jeff look for his missing nephew. However, after a thorough search of the park, the play area, the woods and the parking lot, they reconvened with no one finding any sign of Joe or having encountered anyone who had seen him. The scent of fear permeated the air. Parents distanced themselves from Jeff and pulled their own children close. _

_Praying Joe had simply wandered off after something that had captured his attention and by now had returned to his aunt's side, Jeff sought out his wife. He found Carole kneeling on the blanket, clutching Kelly and Kevin to her. When she saw Jeff returning to them - alone - her eyes widened. Jeff stared at her, the guilt already starting to eat him alive. As reality sunk in, he saw the same emotion overwhelming his wife. _

_Fenton and Laura had entrusted them with their most precious 'possession'- their baby - and in an instinctive moment of parental concern for their own child, Jeff and Carole had committed the ultimate sin. They had taken their eyes off Joe for what seemed only a split second but it had been long enough. When they turned around, he was gone._

Jeff shuddered, the emotions as raw and painful as they had been that horrible day. The phone call to Fenton and Laura telling them their son had disappeared was, to this day, the hardest thing he'd ever done in his life; the subsequent three days the longest he'd ever endured. He had wanted to help in the search for Joe, an offer Fenton wouldn't even consider.

"_You've done enough already!"_

Jeff hadn't been the least bit surprised at the venom in his brother-in-law's voice. Fenton and Laura had trusted him to look after Joe as he would his own child and he had broken that trust - obliterated it. Joe was the light of their lives and for three long days it was a light that they all feared had been permanently extinguished.

Over those three days Fenton, his close friend and associate Sam Radley and the local authorities searched for Joe tirelessly, taking time only to grab something to eat. Sleep was out of the question. Not wanting Laura to be alone with nothing to do but wonder what was happening to her son, Carole refused to leave her sister's side.

After Fenton expressly forbid him from setting foot in the Hardys' house, Jeff retreated to his own home and waited for word on Joe, hoping for the best yet fearing the worst. Looking after Kelly and Kevin was both a blessing and a curse. The children had kept him distracted to a certain degree, but also fed his enormous sense of guilt. His own children were safe and sound, while Joe was being subjected to…

Even now, the bile rose in his throat as Jeff recalled the video Fenton Hardy forced him to watch, wanting him to know what Joe had endured thanks to his negligence. It had taken only thirty seconds for Jeff to flee to the bathroom, becoming violently ill at the sickening images on the tape. He had returned to Fenton's office and tearfully asked if Joe had been forced to participate.

Although Fenton said Joe had only been forced to watch, Jeff had always harbored a doubt. Had Joe been spared the horror of being a pedophile's fantasy come true? Or had the real truth of what Joe endured simply been too much for Fenton Hardy to acknowledge?

Jeff never got the chance to find out. Once Joe was finally rescued and returned to the safety of his parents' arms, Laura and Carole's relationship rapidly deteriorated. As for Fenton, he couldn't possibly have hidden his anger and rage at Jeff and Carole even if he wanted to - and he didn't want to. He held them completely responsible for what had happened to his beloved child and it was clear that 'forgive and forget' was out of the question.

Word had quickly spread through town that Joe had been abducted while in the care of Jeff and Carole. When the resulting 'cold shoulder' they received from friends and acquaintances was extended to their children who suddenly found themselves with no playmates, they knew there was only one option.

Within a month of Joe's return, the Cutter family packed up and left Bayport, moving to Arizona. The bond they'd shared with Fenton and Laura had been damaged beyond repair. Remaining in the town they loved would only serve as a constant reminder of what Joe had been subjected to and they had already caused the Hardys enough pain.

After getting permission from Laura and Fenton, they had made a brief stop at the Hardy home on their way out of town, so Kevin and Kelly could say goodbye to the cousins they had grown up with. It was the last time either of them had spoken to Fenton and Laura Hardy.

Sitting up, Jeff forced himself not to look at the house across the street. He'd known it would be hard to come back to this house that had held such happy memories, but he'd never anticipated it would be this difficult. Was he really prepared to face his brother-in-law again? He didn't have time to ponder the thought as a pair of headlights suddenly appeared in the rearview mirror.

Slouching back down, Jeff watched the expensive luxury car turn into the Hardy driveway. Seconds later the driver's side door opened and Fenton Hardy emerged. Even from this distance, he exuded an air of confidence and authority. Walking to the passenger side, Fenton opened the door and helped his wife from the car.

As the couple walked towards the house, Jeff heard Laura's soft laughter, apparently in response to something her husband said. They looked happy. Content. Unaware their world was about to be turned upside down by a man they were sure they'd never see again.

A momentary rush of fear caused Jeff to hesitate, as the Hardys approached their front door. His nerves were on overload and he was no longer sure he could convince Fenton Hardy to temporarily put the past aside. Praying for the words that would at least make his estranged brother-in-law listen to his plea, Jeff got out of the car and quietly closed the door, barely making a sound. Fenton Hardy's investigative skills and intuition had been impressive eighteen years ago, there was no telling how much they'd improved since then. It was unlikely he would have heard the car door at this distance, but Jeff wasn't taking any chances - he did not want to do anything that would alert the detective to his presence.

Taking a deep breath, Jeff started across the street as the last words Fenton Hardy had uttered to him echoed in his mind…

"_If you ever come near my family again, I will kill you."_


	2. Chapter 2

Thank you all for the reviews! I think I responded to everyone who signed in. And thank you also to those who are following this story and those who have favorited it – after only one chapter – and everyone who is reading.

Brandi, thank you so much for taking the time to leave a very insightful and honest review. I enjoyed reading your thoughts and you are actually right on target for the main theme of this story as far as imperfection and how an initial overreaction can build unbelievably when left unchecked over many years – for both the Hardys and the Cutters. I hope you continue reading as I'd love to hear your thoughts as the characters come to some of their own realizations as the story progresses. Don't worry, there is nothing graphic – I'm not a big fan of anything graphic in a story; I try to give just enough information so the reader's imagination grab on and fill in as much, or as little as they want. And there will be plenty of Frank in the story! I'm a fan of the Hardy Boys, plural. I don't enjoy stories where one of the brothers is non-existent or shows up for one token appearance. To me, Frank and Joe come as a set!

**Shared Sorrow**

**Chapter 2**

Fenton Hardy slipped an arm around his wife and smiled to himself. The year had started off with a slight bump, but nothing compared to the beginning of the previous year. Vanessa's final blood test had been negative, lifting a heavy weight from his heart. She and Joe were planning what he was sure would be the wedding of the century. The smile grew a little bigger and he didn't even realize he'd let out a contented sigh until he felt his wife's eyes on him. "What?"

"What are you so happy about?" Laura asked in reply.

Fenton shrugged and grinned, looking so much like his younger son. "Life is good," he announced. Enjoying the sound of Laura's soft laughter he pulled her a little closer. _'It doesn't get much better than this.'_

"Fenton? Laura?"

The voice stopped Fenton Hardy dead in his tracks. He hadn't heard it in over seventeen years, but he recognized it immediately. Still, he stood there for a moment, certain he'd imagined it. Surely that man wouldn't be foolish enough to come back, not after what he'd done. The sound of shuffling feet and nervous, shallow breathing convinced Fenton that he wasn't imagining it - the worst nightmare of his life was about to return with a vengeance.

Slowly turning around, Fenton came face to face with the man he hated with an intensity he never thought he was capable of. Staring at his brother-in-law, the words that had ripped a hole in his heart all those years ago rang in his ears.

"_Joe is missing…"_

Long buried memories unleashed emotions Fenton had never wanted to feel again. The feeling of failure at the look on Laura's face each time he'd returned home without their baby; the agony of knowing the longer Joe was missing, the less chance there was of finding him alive; the unbearable guilt as the emergency room doctors had pried Joe from his arms, kicking and screaming for his Daddy.

Lashing out with a fist that carried eighteen years of anger and resentment, he landed a vicious punch squarely on Jeff's chin. Jeff was knocked several feet through the air and landed on his back. Fenton knew he was close to crossing a line into unrestrained violence, but rational thought was all but obliterated by the raw emotions that were now raging out of control.

Fenton lunged forward, grabbed a fistful of Jeff's jacket and yanked him halfway off the ground. His right arm back in preparation for a second blow, Fenton felt hands grasp his arm. He heard the voice of reason; the voice that for the past twenty-seven years had kept him grounded when he felt himself thinking with his heart and emotions instead of his head; the voice of Laura Hardy.

"Fenton, don't."

Her hands tugged on his arm in gentle persuasion and quickly brought Fenton's runaway rage back into focus. He released Jeff, letting him fall to the ground. Still bitterly angry but now back in control, Fenton glared at his brother-in-law. "What the hell are you doing here?"

Jeff pushed himself to a standing position and winced, much to Fenton's satisfaction. Watching Jeff wipe blood from a split lip, Fenton thought he didn't seem completely surprised by the attack. He also noted that Jeff was having a great deal of trouble looking him in the eye and found that somehow comforting.

Jeff took a deep breath and met Fenton's angry glare. He needed another steadying breath before he could get the words out.

"I need your help."

As the words filtered through the haze of anger, their meaning sank in. Fenton's jaw dropped slightly. Had the man he held solely responsible for Joe's kidnapping eighteen years earlier, the man he'd threatened to kill should he ever set foot in Bayport again, just showed up on his front lawn and asked him for help?

'_No. Can't be. I must've misheard,'_ Fenton convinced himself. _'Even he couldn't be that stupid.' _He was about to pose the question again when his wife's voice stopped him and sent a chill down his spine.

"How dare you," Laura hissed, a venomous tone to her voice that Fenton had never heard in all the time he'd known her. "Our child ended up in the hands of a pedophile because of you! A child pornographer who intended to sell him to the highest bidder! An animal who beat him and forced him to watch the most vile and despicable acts, all because you took your eyes off him 'just for a second'!" Laura threw the words back at Jeff; the same words Jeff had used to explain how someone had been able to grab Joe and disappear into thin air.

"We trusted you with our son, trusted that you'd protect him as you did your own children, but you left him alone and vulnerable. He was just a little boy! A little boy who thought his uncle would keep him safe!" Laura's voice shook with rage. "But you didn't keep him safe, did you? And now you have the _nerve_ to show up here and ask for help? Did you think after all these years the memory might have faded? That it wouldn't seem quite so bad anymore?" Her voice was cold as ice. "Well, guess again. Whatever it is you want help with, the answer is no. Now get out."

Laura turned on her heel and Fenton saw her face clearly illuminated in the glare of the porch light. He thought she looked as if the anguish was threatening to drown her. He put an arm around her, pulled her close and they climbed the few porch steps. They were almost to the front door when Jeff finally spoke. His words sliced through them like a knife, inflicting a pain they knew all too well and wouldn't wish on their worst enemy.

"Kevin is missing."

Fenton heard a soft gasp from his wife, as Jeff's voice played havoc with his mind. _"Kevin is missing… Joe is missing…"_

"The police gave up looking for him… they had no leads…"

"_We have no leads, Fenton…" _Ezra Collig's voice called from the past. He'd been a sergeant with the Bayport Police Department back then and despite having no leads to Joe's disappearance, he had stuck by Fenton's side through the entire ordeal, refusing to give up until Joe had been found.

"It's been almost two weeks and no one has heard from him." Jeff's voice started to quiver. "It's like he vanished into thin air."

"_It's like the kid just vanished into thin air!"_ Those were the first words Fenton heard when he had arrived at the park that day, uttered by a parent who was being questioned by a police officer. The man had a panicked look in his eyes and both arms wrapped tightly around his own child.

"Fenton, we don't know where else to turn." Jeff's voice was pleading now, begging. "I know how much you despise me, but please don't make Kevin pay for my mistake. Please. Find my son."


	3. Chapter 3

So I tried to post this last night but the weather had other ideas. Power went out in the middle of a thunderstorm and didn't come back on until about 2:00am. (Did you lose power too, Cheryl?)

My apologies to anyone who left a review for the last chapter and did not get a reply. I think I was able to reply to just about everyone but this site started freezing, literally, after every second word I typed. Thank you to everyone who reviewed and all those who are reading.

**Shared Sorrow**

**Chapter 3**

A tense and uneasy silence hung in the air of the Hardys' living room. Seated on the couch next to his wife, Fenton watched Jeff wander about the room, stopping to gaze at the multitude of family photos Laura proudly displayed on the mantle of the fireplace. Jeff picked up several of the photos, one after another, and examined them more closely. Fenton noticed they all had one thing in common - Joe was in every single one of them. Sometimes by himself, sometimes with Frank or Vanessa or another family member or friend, but Joe was the common thread in every picture that captured Jeff's attention.

Jeff stared at the picture of Joe and Vanessa in his hands. "When are they getting married?"

"What?" Fenton was dumbfounded. _'How could he possibly know who Vanessa is, let alone that she and Joe are engaged?'_

"How did you know?" Laura seemed just as surprised.

Jeff smiled sadly before placing the picture back on the mantle. "When we moved, Carole never cancelled our subscription to _The Bayport Times_. She had it mailed to the house until they began posting it online. She still reads it every day."

Fenton was suddenly overcome with an irrational anger at the thought of Jeff and Carole 'keeping tabs' on his family via the local paper. The words were out of his mouth before he could stop himself. "Then you know what happened last year!" he snarled. "And you know it's all _your_ fault! Eighteen years later Joe – _and_ his fiancée – are still paying for your stupid mistake!"

"What? I…I'm sorry. I don't know what you're talking about." Jeff seemed honestly confused.

"Fenton, _you're_ the one who had the _Times_ withhold some of the more sensitive details," Laura reminded him.

He felt her squeeze his arm tightly, a silent signal to step back and regroup, but Fenton wasn't about to be stopped. He wanted Jeff to know that all these years later, the Hardy family was still feeling the repercussions of his mistake.

"Vanessa was raped." Fenton fought to stay in control of his anger. "Less than two weeks later Joe was arrested and charged with murdering the man who attacked her. I'm sure you read about that in the paper."

"Yes, I did. It was horrible," Jeff said. "We were shocked."

"Well let me tell what the papers didn't print," Fenton continued resentfully.

Laura tugged on his arm. "Are you sure that's really necessary?"

"Absolutely." Fenton's voice was hard and bitter. "I want him to know just how much Joe and Vanessa have paid – how much they're _still_ paying – because of him!" Fenton could feel himself shaking with rage, hoping Jeff could see it from where he stood. "Chris Taylor – the animal who raped Vanessa – was Joshua Tilghman's son." He paused for a moment as the words sank in and Jeff paled. "Apparently Taylor held _Joe_ responsible for his father being sent to prison and spent his entire life planning his revenge."

"Oh. Oh, God…" Jeff's knees buckled as realization washed over him. "He…he raped Vanessa just to hurt Joe?" He looked as if he were about to throw up.

"Yes. He did. Of course that was _after_ he raped six other women just for practice." Fenton ignored Laura's whispered pleas for him to stop. "Joe was charged with murdering the son of bitch, when in reality Taylor committed suicide." Fenton had to stop momentarily, as the feeling of self-loathing threatened to overwhelm him. Even he had initially believed Joe killed Taylor in cold blood. When he spoke again his voice shook as he relived the pain of watching Joe retreat into a world of darkness and silence rather than deal with the terrifying memories that refused to stay buried a moment longer. "Did you know Joe was so traumatized by what Tilghman did to him, that he repressed it all? Every single thing. It was like it never happened."

"What?" Jeff whispered. His face wore an expression of horrified disbelief.

"Until the trial," Fenton practically spat at him. "That's when it all came back to him. As if he wasn't under enough stress dealing with Vanessa and the trial, he remembered everything – _every single disgusting detail_." Fenton gestured angrily, stabbing the air with his finger punctuating every word. Jeff was staring at him, stunned speechless at the information Fenton was forcing on him. "And that's when we had to admit him to the Campbell Center."

Jeff's eyes widened. "The Campbell Center? The Campbell _Psychiatric_ Center?"

"It was too much for him to deal with; he completely withdrew from reality. Thank God Frank was able to get through to him or he might still be there."

"I…I had no idea," Jeff stammered. "I'm sorry. So, so sorry."

Fenton stared at his brother-in-law, wondering why he didn't feel the vindication he'd wanted and needed. Somehow, he'd thought that by inflicting as much pain as possible on the man he held responsible for causing Joe so much anguish, it would ease his own pain. So why did he feel so empty?

Laura broke the heavy silence, bringing Fenton's attention back to the reason he had even allowed Jeff to set foot in his house again. "You said Kevin is missing."

Jeff took a seat and looked Fenton in the eyes for the first time all night. For a moment Fenton felt as if he were looking in a mirror, having seen the same look of grief and anguish on his own face more times than he cared to remember. He couldn't think of anything more painful than not knowing where your child was or what was happening to him and found himself sympathizing with the brother-in-law he'd hated for so long.

Jeff began to explain. "Eight days ago he left work for the day and just disappeared. Several people saw him leave and his car was in the driveway of his house but he never made it inside."

"How do you know he never made it inside? Did someone see him being taken away against his will?" Fenton picked up a pad and pen off the end table and began taking notes, the detective in him automatically taking over.

"No, but he was supposed to go to Gina's - his girlfriend - for dinner that night. When he didn't show up she called Carole. We all met at his house. It was still locked up tight, the lights were off and the mail was still in the mailbox."

Fenton was writing furiously. "What about his car?"

"Locked and the alarm was on. We went into the house but there was no sign of him."

"Anything missing?"

"Not that time..."

Fenton's head snapped up, his antennae on high alert. "What do you mean 'not that time'?"

"We called the police and they came out and talked to us, looked around a little but since there was no sign of foul play and Kevin is an adult they told us we couldn't file a missing person's report for forty-eight hours." Jeff's voice was bitter.

"Did you?"

"Of course!" he snapped angrily, then immediately apologized. "I'm sorry. It's just that no one - _no one_ - believes there's anything wrong! Kevin wouldn't just up and leave without saying a word. He wouldn't do that to his mother"

"Okay." Fenton found he could commiserate. The difference was when one of his children was missing, he could take matters into his own hands. "Now what did you mean by nothing was missing 'that time'?"

"We filed an official report forty-eight hours later. The police came back to his house and looked around a little more thoroughly." He stopped and frowned in concentration. "I can't put my finger on anything specific but things just seemed out of place; not exactly where they'd been when we were there two days earlier. Nothing was missing but I got the sense someone had been there looking for something and didn't get everything back where it should have been."

"Could Carole or Gina have gone over there during that time?" Laura asked, a sense of sadness lingering in her words.

Fenton stared at the pad in his hands thinking of the times Joe or Frank had been missing. More than once he'd come home from searching for them only to find Laura in their bedroom, wandering around picking up an item they treasured and holding it for a moment, only to put it down and move on to something else in the room. Somehow being close to their possessions brought her a sense of comfort.

"No, I asked them. Kelly, too. No one was in his house, at least not with our permission."

"Could it have been Kevin?" Fenton asked.

Jeff was shaking his head before Fenton had even finished speaking. "Absolutely not. He'd never let Carole worry like that. Even if he wanted to disappear, he'd let _her _know he was okay."

Fenton picked up on the allusion that Jeff and Kevin's relationship was apparently strained. He glanced at Laura who raised her eyebrows questioningly, also having noted Jeff's strange choice of words.

"And would Carole let you know if Kevin had contacted her?" Fenton suddenly felt as if he were prying into matters that were none of his business.

Jeff didn't speak right away, seeming to take great care in phrasing his thoughts. "Carole's the one who suggested we ask you for help. She wouldn't have me fly out here and drag you into this if she knew Kevin was fine."

"Okay." Fenton flipped through the notepad in his hand, curious as to what had happened to the close-knit Cutter family over the years. "Kevin left work one night, arrived home but never made it inside. Several hours later, you accompanied the police into his house and everything appeared normal. However, two days later when you returned you got a strong feeling that someone had been there, looking for something. You're sure it wasn't Kevin, Carole, Kelly or Gina. It wasn't you or the police," he summarized.

"Right," Jeff confirmed. "So wouldn't that mean it was whoever abducted Kevin?"

Fenton scrutinized his notes. "It would seem so." With a frown, he glanced briefly at Laura before looking at Jeff. "Would you excuse us for a few moments please," he said offering no further explanation.

"Sure. Of course." Jeff appeared to be relieved that Fenton hadn't already turned him down flat and followed through on the threat he'd made so many years ago.

Watching until Jeff disappeared from the room, Fenton still waited for the front door to open and close before turning to his wife. "Well? Should I help them or not?"

Laura stared at him in earnest. "How can you _not _help? Their _child _is missing, Fenton. No one knows that kind of hell more than we do. And no matter how we feel about them, or what happened eighteen years ago, we can't take it out on Kevin."

Fenton was quiet, looking at his wife. _'Always the voice of reason and compassion.' _Leaning forward, he kissed her on the cheek and then stood up. "I'll go tell him."

Walking towards the door, Fenton began to worry. How would Joe react to the news that their firm's newest client was the man whose lack of attention was responsible for allowing Joe to be delivered right into the hands of Joshua Tilghman?


	4. Chapter 4

**Shared Sorrow**

**Chapter 4**

Laura listened, waiting for the explosion she feared was imminent. She held nothing but contempt for Jeff Cutter, but she knew it paled in comparison to the hatred Fenton had been carrying all these years. Standing up, she walked towards the mantle, drawn to the pictures of her family that had captured Jeff's attention moments earlier. Looking at the photos of Joe, she saw a happy, carefree, well-adjusted young man who showed no signs of the trauma he'd endured as a child.

Yet while Joe had grown up with no memory of the horrors he had suffered, his parents had never been able to forget. For the first few years after it happened, Laura rarely let Joe out of her sight and tried to shield him from any situation she feared would trigger those memories. However, as Joe got a little older he began to bristle at his mother's over-protectiveness and she had no choice but to loosen her grip on him. Even though it took seventeen years for Joe to remember what happened, Laura and Fenton had lived with it every day. While she eventually learned how to cope, it had eaten her husband alive.

Tonight the images and emotions seemed to be stronger than ever. The intensity of the fear and anguish she felt were as strong as the day Joe disappeared. With a shaking hand, she returned a picture of Joe to the mantle. As she turned away, her eyes were drawn to the phone on the end table.

Laura suddenly had an overpowering need to speak to Joe just to assure herself he was home, safe and sound. She knew she was being ridiculous. Joe wasn't a helpless little boy anymore. He was a grown man, perfectly capable of taking care of himself. But the memories were relentless - so vivid, so persistent.

'_You're being totally irrational. Unreasonable and illogical. You're going to feel utterly foolish trying to explain to Joe why you're calling,'_ Laura chided herself even as she reached for the phone.

oooOOOooo

Fenton stepped out onto the front porch and saw his brother-in-law gazing up at the star-filled sky. Jeff's presence had reawakened some very bitter feelings, the intensity of which Fenton found quite unnerving. He took a moment to steady himself as he watched Jeff, knowing the man was wondering – and worrying – about Kevin. Fenton found himself almost feeling sorry for Jeff, being much too familiar with the agony of a missing child. When Joe had been abducted the previous year, the terror was just as overpowering as when Joe was taken by Tilghman's men as a child. It didn't matter that Joe had been an adult, the fear of not knowing where his son was or what was happening to him had been close to unbearable.

Fenton frowned, trying to push aside the twinge of sympathy. He didn't _want_ to feel any kind of compassion for Jeff Cutter. Jeffwas the reason Joe had suffered so horribly the past year. He hated this man with a passion and had grown quite comfortable with that hatred. Although some nights he wondered who he hated more – Jeff for allowing Joe to be taken, or himself for not being able to find Joe sooner.

Shaking his head to rid himself of the horrible memories, Fenton stepped off the porch and approached his brother-in-law. "I'll take the case."

Jeff spun around a mixture of shock and relief on his face. "Thank you! You have no idea -" Jeff had barely begun to speak when Fenton cut him off.

"But if I even _suspect_ that my helping you is detrimental to Joe's recovery in any way, all bets are off. I'm not risking my son's sanity to find Kevin. I'll give you the names of some colleagues, but I will have nothing further to do with you or the investigation. Understood?" Fenton left no room for argument.

"Of course."

"Kevin still lives in Phoenix?" Fenton was all business.

"Yes." Jeff appeared a little bewildered at Fenton's sudden change to investigator mode.

Nodding, Fenton made a few more notes. "I'll see if I can get on the first flight to Phoenix tomorrow morning. If not I'll have my pilot fly me out. Either way, I'll be there tomorrow afternoon."

"You have a pilot? _On_ _call_?"

'_Being the best at what you do has certain advantages.'_ Fenton bit back a smile of satisfaction at Jeff's obvious awe. "Something like that. Who was in charge of the investigation at the Phoenix P.D.?"

"Detective Gainey. John Gainey. I can contact him and let him know to expect you."

"Not necessary. I'll be in touch with him when I'm ready." Fenton held the notepad out to Jeff. "I'll need your address and phone number, Kevin's home and work addresses and phone numbers, and the name of Kevin's supervisor at work. Do you have a key to his house on you?"

"Yes," Jeff responded without looking up. "I can take you there tomorrow-"

"I work alone, with Sam Radley or with my sons," Fenton said curtly. "If I need any more information from you, I'll call. Otherwise I'll be in touch as soon as I have anything to report. When the investigation is concluded, I'll bill you – my standard daily rate plus expenses." Fenton took the pad and pen back and glanced at the notes Jeff had made.

"That… that's it?"

"Yes, that's it." Fenton put the notepad in his jacket pocket. "Goodnight."

Turning his back, Fenton drew in a shaky breath. Trying to control his anger and emotions while speaking to Jeff had been more difficult than he'd anticipated. Walking back into the house, Fenton wondered how he'd been able to carry around such pure hatred for so many years without imploding.

Fenton closed the front door and leaned heavily against it. Staring at the ceiling, the reality of what he had just agreed to do washed over him. Suddenly he wasn't so sure he had made the right decision. Yes, Jeff's son was missing but what about the welfare of his own son? Shouldn't that come first?

'_How am I going to explain this to Joe? Will he understand why I said yes? Will he even listen to me? What if I'm asking too much of him? He's finally happy again.'_ Fenton was heartsick at the possibility of bringing an abrupt end to that short-lived happiness.

"Damn it," he grumbled, furious that, once again, Joe's world was about to be turned upside down by something that was beyond his control. A little voice in his head came out of nowhere – and sent a chill down his spine._ 'Don't tell him.'_

'_I have to tell him,'_ Fenton silently replied.

'_No you don't,'_ the voice insisted. _'You've accepted cases before that he knew nothing about.'_

'_That was different. The client isn't the Federal government and I haven't been sworn to secrecy,' _Fenton continued arguing with himself.

'_Joe doesn't know that,'_ the voice prodded him. _'And you wouldn't really be lying to him – just not sharing all the details.'_

'_It's a lie of omission.'_

The voice wouldn't let up._ 'It's for his own good!'_

'_It doesn't feel right!'_

'_Fine. Tell him. And when he loses it again and you have to visit him in that mental hospital again just remember you could have prevented it by keeping your mouth shut.' _The voice seemed to sneer at him._ 'But don't worry. You'll keep your standing as one of the world's best detectives, even if you are a lousy father.'_

"Shut up," Fenton muttered aloud, tuning out the little voice as he went in search of his wife.

Fenton returned to the living room and saw Laura hanging up the phone, disappointment etched on her face. He leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest and smiled. "Joe's not home."

Laura jumped, apparently startled and turned towards him, flushing slightly. "He and Frank went to the hockey game. He won't be home for at least an hour.

"If it's any consolation, I had the exact same thought," Fenton confided seeing his wife's embarrassment. And he had; now feeling like the lousy father the little voice insisted he was, he'd suddenly and inexplicably become obsessed with hearing Joe's voice, listening to his laugh, secure in the knowledge his son was safe.

"Well, at least you realized how absurd it was before you acted on it," Laura mumbled.

"Not really." Fenton stepped forward and enveloped her in a hug. "You just beat me to the phone." He kissed the top of her head. "Come on upstairs and keep me company while I pack."

"Are you going to call him later and tell him about Jeff or wait until the morning so you can tell him face to face?" Laura asked as they entered the master bedroom.

Fenton moved to the closet without answering and pulled out a carry-on suitcase. Placing it on the luggage rack in the corner of the room, he unzipped it and flipped it open.

"Fenton? Are you going to call him later?"

When he remained silent and began to turn away, she grabbed his arm. Now trapped, Fenton had no choice to but to look his wife in the eyes and he didn't like what he saw. Anger flirting with disapproval, as if she had been privy to the conversation he'd just had with his inner Devil's Advocate.

"No." He tugged his arm out of her grasp and retreated into the walk-in closet.

Her voice followed him into the small room. "So you're going to tell him tomorrow morning? In person? Before you leave for the airport?"

The little voice returned, taunting him. _'She wasn't there with him when he__ remembered. She didn't have to hold him when he broke down and cried. But hey, don't listen to me. Go ahead, tell him everything. Who cares if it pushes him over the edge again. He's a tough kid. He'll bounce back. Maybe…'_

Now confused and no longer sure what was the right thing to do, Fenton felt as if he were being pulled in two different directions. _'Joe __is__ a tough kid. Look at everything he bounced back from last year. But everyone has their limit. What if this really does push him over the edge? How can I take that risk?'_

Emerging from the closet empty-handed, Fenton saw his wife looking at him, hands on her hips. "Well?"

The words were out of his mouth before Fenton even realized he had spoken. "I'm not going to tell him," he blurted out, brushing past Laura.

Glancing at the empty suitcase and then his empty hands, Fenton cursed silently. Turning around, he saw Laura staring at him. "Don't look at me like that," Fenton mumbled, flushing in embarrassment.

"That's it? You're just going to up and leave without telling him anything?" Laura said angrily.

Fenton tried to defend the decision he still wasn't comfortable with. "I'll tell him and Frank I've accepted a new case that I'll be working alone. They won't think twice about it. We've all done it before."

"So that's it? We're not even going to discuss this?" Laura seemed dumbfounded at her husband's stubbornness.

"The decision has been made, Laura. It's my case, my decision," Fenton said lamely, trying to get past his wife and out of the line of fire.

"Well Joe is _OUR_ son," Laura reminded him in a tone he rarely heard directed at him – low and deadly. "And we _are_ going to discuss this and come to a mutual decision. So sit down and start talking."

Knowing defeat when he saw it, Fenton sank down onto the bed wearily. Seconds later Laura took a seat beside him. Her voice was no longer hostile. "Now tell me why you think it's in Joe's best interests to lie to him about this?"

"I'm not lying," Fenton answered, unconvincingly. "I'm just not telling him all the details."

"A lie of omission is still a lie," Laura said softly. "Joe has given you two second chances already. If you go through with this he'll never trust you again."

Fenton had no reply, knowing she was right. He and Joe had become so close over the past year and Joe had been more than forgiving, even when Fenton felt he didn't deserve it. He had sworn to Joe he'd never lie to him again.

"I know there are times I've been hard on you for treating the boys too much as partners and not enough like your children. This _isn't_ one of those times, Fenton." Laura gently rubbed her husband's back as she spoke. She seemed to understand Fenton was worried about Joe's ability to absorb this latest reminder of something he was desperately trying to put behind him. Yet it was clear she did not agree with him.

"You didn't see him, Laura," Fenton said, heartbreaking sadness in his voice. "The night he remembered… I felt so helpless. He was in agony and there was nothing I could do to help him. I don't want to do that to him again." Overcome with memories of that night, Fenton dropped his head into his hands, trying to control his emotions.

"I understand you're worried about how Joe will react to all this. So am I. But you need to give him a little more credit. That night he was remembering everything for the first time. This is different. Don't forget he's been in therapy for a year and judging by the changes in him lately, I'd say he's learning how to deal with it and not let it control his every waking moment."

"But he's my son. Isn't my first responsibility to protect him? To do what I think is in his best interest?"

"Yes, but Joe – and Frank – are adults now. Level-headed, mature adults. I think they might resent your assuming they need to be protected from this," Laura said gently, making her own assumption that if Fenton wasn't planning to tell Joe, he wouldn't be giving Frank any details either.

Fenton looked up, relieved to see compassion had replaced the anger in his wife's eyes. He also saw she had more words of wisdom to impart. "What else?" he asked simply.

"Are you planning to tell Sam about this? In detail?"

"Of course. He's a partner in the agency."

"Frank and Joe are your partners, too. If you tell Sam, they have a right to know as well. If for no other reason than safety. They need to know where you are and what you're working on in case you run into trouble."

Fenton automatically smiled with pride. Ever since Frank and Joe had shown an interest in his work, his secret dream had been that one day they would join the family business, working with him side-by-side as partners. Sometimes he still found it hard to believe that dream had finally become a reality.

"Plus the boys are in the same age bracket as Kevin. They may be able to give you a different perspective on things."

Fenton heard a door in the back of his mind opening, letting in the voice he'd been trying to ignore all evening. _'Why are you listening to her? She doesn't know-'_

'_Shut up. She's his mother. She knows him a hell of a lot better than you do.'_ With that, Fenton slammed the door shut for good. Feeling an odd sense of relief, Fenton leaned over and kissed his wife softly on the cheek. "Thank you for not letting me make a fool of myself."

"All in a day's work." Laura's eyes twinkled with mischief as Joe's so often did. "Now why don't you go call the boys and let me finish packing for you."

Fenton thought a moment before replying. "I'll call them tonight and ask them to come in early tomorrow. I think this is something they need to hear in person." He stood up and walked to the door, stopping abruptly.

"Laura, what if… what if we _are_ asking too much of him? What if he really can't deal with this?" Fenton asked, not turning around.

"Then we'll be there to help him pick up the pieces, just like we always have," Laura assured him. "But I have a feeling he's stronger than we're giving him credit for."


	5. Chapter 5

Thank you to Cheryl, whashaza, Aisbored, hla & max for the reviews. Thanks to all who are reading and those who followed and favorited. Hope you continue to enjoy the story.

**Shared Sorrow**

**Chapter 6**

Fenton stood in the doorway of his office, smiling as he silently observed his two sons. Twenty-five-year-old Frank was seated in a leather armchair next to the couch, reading the morning paper and occasionally taking a sip of coffee.

Joe, a year younger, was stretched out on the couch alternately complaining about being summoned to the office so early and bemoaning the outcome of the hockey game they'd attended the previous evening. "I still can't believe it! One minute left – _one lousy minute_ – and they literally give the game away!" he complained dramatically.

"Picking up right where you left off last night, I see," Frank commented in amusement.

"A penalty shot! We have the best goalie in the league and that idiot forward trips their worst player on a breakaway!" Joe waved his arms theatrically. "He's their enforcer. He's paid to _fight_! What are the chances he'd even score?!"

"He scored on the penalty shot," Frank reminded helpfully as he turned another page.

Joe shot his brother a withering look, which Frank ignored, before continuing his tirade. "Then they went and took that _stupid_ penalty in overtime…they shoulda just handed the game over on a silver platter and saved us all from having to witness that fiasco." He snorted in disgust.

As Fenton listened to Joe ramble on, with Frank throwing in the odd comment just to annoy his brother even more, his smile faltered. It had been well over a year since the worst crisis in Joe's life was whether or not one of his beloved sports teams lost a big game. During that bleak time Fenton watched Joe teeter on the edge of depression, sometimes falling into the blackness. A few times it was so bad Fenton had feared Joe wouldn't be able to find his way out. But he had and now the son Fenton had longed to see again was swiftly re-emerging, with Joe appearing happier than he'd ever been.

Fenton began to second-guess himself._ 'What if my taking this case pushes him backwards? What if it's asking too much of him to treat it like just another missing persons case? What if he's not strong enough to do that yet?'_ Feeling the inner voice he thought he'd banished the previous evening trying to return, he remembered Laura's words of advice. _'What if she's right and I'm just not giving him enough credit? What if I'm the one who's not strong enough?'_

"What the heck did Dad need us here so early for anyway?" Joe's voice broke into Fenton's thoughts.

"He didn't say," Frank responded, even though Joe knew that as well as he did.

"It's only seven o'clock in the morning," Joe whined.

"Seven-fifteen," Frank corrected, ignoring the glare Joe threw at him.

Joe rolled his eyes. "Whatever. I'm usually just rolling over to go back to sleep!"

"Well then why don't you," Frank finally suggested in exasperation. "Maybe then I could finish reading the paper in peace."

Joe pushed himself up apparently preparing to grace his brother with a stinging comeback when he saw Fenton standing in the doorway and smiled. "Hey, Dad."

"Good morning, Joe." Fenton finally stepped into the office. "Frank," he nodded at his older son.

"Morning, Dad." Frank folded up the paper as his father took a seat on the couch next to Joe.

"So what's up?" Joe stretched and tried to stifle a yawn. "Why'd you need us here at the crack of dawn?"

Fenton chuckled. "Seven-fifteen is hardly the crack of dawn."

"It is in my world." Joe flopped back against the soft leather cushions and closed his eyes.

Fenton began hesitantly. "I accepted a new case last night. I'll be working it alone but I wanted to fill you both in before I left for the airport."

"Why didn't you just call us like you usually do?" Joe asked bluntly.

Feeling Frank's eyes on him, Fenton looked up and met his gaze. _'He's already figured out this isn't just another case.' _Frank could read people very well and right now Fenton felt as if he were being read like an open book.

"This one has extenuating circumstances," he continued, never breaking eye contact with Frank. "In fact, I'm not leaving Bayport until and unless I get your approval." Fenton directed the last few words squarely at Joe.

Joe leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees and looked at his father seriously. "What's so special about this case that you need our approval?"

"Because you're my partners. And this isn't just another stranger asking for help. He… I…" Joe was staring at him with such concern, Fenton's train of thought was completely derailed. "I'm sorry, Joe," he whispered, unaware he'd uttered the words out loud.

"Dad?" Frank reached out and touched Fenton's arm, throwing a worried glance at his brother. "Who are we talking about? Who's the new client?"

Fenton took a deep breath before responding. "Jeff Cutter."

While the blank look on Joe's face indicated the name hadn't registered yet, Frank apparently recognized it immediately.

"Jeff Cutter?" he repeated in shocked disbelief. "_Uncle_ Jeff asked you for help?!"

"Yes." While Fenton watched and waited for Joe's reaction, Frank's took him completely by surprise.

"And you accepted the case?!" Anger mixed with accusation in Frank's voice.

"Frank, you don't know the whole story," he tried to explain, a little unnerved at Frank's vehement response.

"I don't need to! After what he did how could you even give him the time of day?!" Frank demanded furiously.

Fenton stared at his normally level-headed son, taken aback. He had no idea Frank hated Jeff Cutter so much. As he was about to respond, it suddenly dawned on him that maybe he hadn't hidden his hatred for Jeff as well as he thought all these years. Had Frank subconsciously picked up on that long ago, allowing it to fester and grow inside _him_ just as it had in Fenton?

"How could you?! Did you stop to think what effect this could have on Joe? It's only been a year since he remembered what happened."

"I know that!" Fenton responded, trying to control his own anger. "Joe's reaction was foremost in my mind! I was up all night worrying about whether this could set him back and how far. I'm still not sure I made the right decision."

"Well as far as I'm concerned you didn't," Frank snapped bitterly.

Knowing Frank's anger was a knee jerk reaction to a perceived threat to his brother, Fenton found he was now more exasperated than angry. Taking a moment to decide the best way to diffuse the tense situation he hadn't anticipated, Fenton jumped slightly when Joe finally spoke, his voice quiet but firm.

"You know I'd really appreciate it if you'd both stop talking about me like I'm not here."

Frank looked at Joe in surprise, a telltale sign he had indeed forgotten his brother was present, at least for a moment, as had Fenton. Noting Joe's calm demeanor, Fenton wondered if he'd spent all night worrying about the wrong son. Neither of his sons' reactions was what he'd been expecting.

"You're right. I'm sorry, Joe," Fenton apologized immediately.

Frank quickly followed suit. "Me, too. Sorry, bro. But… you do know who Jeff Cutter is, don't you?"

It now dawned on Fenton that Joe had never once mentioned Jeff's name while growing up. He'd never asked about his aunt or cousins either. It was as if once the Cutter family left Bayport, they ceased to exist - at least for Joe.

Fenton frowned. _'A coping mechanism? His subconscious wouldn't allow him to think about them knowing he wasn't ready to remember? But he hasn't mentioned them at all since he remembered either.'_

"Of course I do," Joe replied quietly, only now appearing slightly shaken. "He and Aunt Carole were watching me when Tilghman's men grabbed me."

"No, Joe, they _weren't_ watching you. That's the whole point! If they had been, you wouldn't have been kidnapped and Van…" Frank stopped abruptly, biting off what he had been about to say. "… and what happened last year _never _wouldhave happened," he finished, much more subdued and obviously having rethought his choice of words. "That alone is reason enough for me to vote against taking this case at all."

"Joe?" Fenton said simply, inviting him to share his thoughts.

Joe hesitated and Fenton thought he saw a flicker of guilt in Joe's eyes. "Just say what's on your mind, son," he said encouragingly.

"Why _did_ you say yes?" Joe asked. "I mean I know I'm more important to you than they are. There must have been a good reason why you felt like you couldn't say no, right?"

Fenton offered a smile, shaky as it was. Reaching out, he squeezed Joe's shoulder hard. "I'm glad you realize that _you_ are the most important thing to me. You and your brother," he said glancing briefly at Frank, "_always_ come first. But the reason I agreed to accept this case is that it's Jeff's son who is missing. And no one knows the pain of a missing child better than I do.

"I did tell him my acceptance was contingent on you, Joe. If this is too hard for you, I will refer him to someone else. Period. He didn't seem happy about that but he understood it's not his choice to make." Fenton sat back, watching his sons nervously.

"I don't have to be actively involved in the investigation?" Joe asked.

"Me either?" Frank added quickly.

"I'll handle everything myself. Neither of you has to give it a second thought," Fenton quickly assured them. "If I need anything checked out, I'll call Sam."

Joe shrugged. "Sounds okay to me. Frank?"

"Whatever you think is fine with me," Frank assured his brother.

"You'll still check in every day?" Joe's question sounded more like an order than a request.

Fenton nodded. "Ten a.m. and ten p.m. every day."

It was a long standing policy that when anyone was working a case alone that didn't require absolute secrecy, they check in twice a day at predetermined times. On the rare occasion that something went wrong, the lack of contact alerted everyone else to the problem and allowed them to mount a search as quickly as possible.

"Okay." Joe gave his father a quick hug and stood up. "Have a safe trip and hurry home."

"I will." Fenton patted him on the back affectionately, smiling as he watched Joe leave to return to his own office.

When Frank stood to follow him, Fenton touched his arm. "Frank, I need to talk to you for a minute."

Frank looked at him questioningly and sat back down.

"I know I don't need to ask you to keep an eye on Joe and let me know if he seems to be backsliding," Fenton smiled briefly. "But I need you to keep a close eye on your mother, too."

"She's not taking this too well?" Frank guessed, his dark brown eyes clouding with worry.

"I think it brought back too many memories she would have preferred stay buried. When Jeff and Carole moved to Arizona, she packed up every shred of evidence that they even existed and stored it in the attic. She was so afraid Joe would see something that would trigger the memories of Tilghman before he was ready to deal with them.

"I don't know if you remember or not, but your mother was extremely close to Carole. She looked up to her sister almost the way Joe looks up to you, although their bond wasn't nearly so... intense." He stopped and grinned as Frank flushed slightly. "Carole and Jeff were the reason we moved back to Bayport. They convinced us this was the perfect place to raise a family - and they were right.

"When Joe was kidnapped while in Carole's care, your mother was absolutely devastated. The older sister she worshipped had let her down in the worst possible way." Fenton stopped and stared down at his clasped hands. "She cut Carole out of her life completely. It was as if Carole just ceased to exist. Every few years, Carole would try and re-establish contact but your mother wouldn't even acknowledge it. Eventually she just stopped trying." He finally looked up and gazed at Frank sadly. "I woke up about three o'clock this morning and found her in the attic going through the boxes and crying."

"Oh, man." Frank ran a hand through his dark hair.

"When I asked what she was doing, she said she was going through the boxes one last time before she got rid of them for good."

Frank's eyebrows shot up in surprise.

"She said the sister she had looked up to died the day Joe disappeared and was never coming back."

"A symbolic burial," Frank mused.

"Mm-hmm. I asked her if she was sure she wanted to do something so permanent. She said if she didn't do this, it would always feel like she was waiting for some kind of reconciliation and that was never going to happen."

"She's sure about that?"

"One thing about your mother, Frank, is her absolute and unwavering love for you and Joe. When someone hurts one of her children they cross a line; there is no going back. Doesn't matter if it was intentional or not. She doesn't give second chances where the welfare of you and your brother are concerned." Fenton smiled inwardly at the look on Frank's face. He'd never really seen that side of his mother. "But sometimes things that make perfect sense a three o'clock in the morning look a lot different in the light of day. So if you could keep an eye on her as well as Joe…"

Fenton knew he didn't really have to ask. Even when Frank was a small boy, he had naturally slipped into the 'man of the house' role whenever Fenton was away from home.

Frank shook his head in dazed sympathy. "How did she live like that all these years? I can't even imagine cutting Joe out of my life like that."

"My guess is she pretended her sister was dead, which she can't do anymore." Fenton still couldn't believe that fate had handed Carole the same heartbreaking circumstances it had dealt Laura so many years ago. He knew from personal experience that it didn't matter what age the victim was; when it was your own child who was missing, the agony of not knowing what was happening to them was unbearable regardless of whether they were a small child or a full grown adult.

"No problem, Dad. I'll watch out for both of them," Frank assured his father.

"Thanks."

As he and Frank walked out of the office together, Fenton gave thanks for the exceptional closeness his family shared. He recalled the Cutter family had had a similar kind of bond, and wondered what had occurred over the years to destroy it.


	6. Chapter 6

Thanks, guys, for the reviews!

**Shared Sorrow**

**Chapter 7**

Joe raced through the empty reception area and down the hall, passing Sam's office on the left and Frank's on the right. Reaching the sanctuary of his own office, Joe closed the door and leaned against it, breathing heavily. He mentally calculated the distance to the bathroom, fearing the memories he could feel barreling their way to the surface were the ones he hated the most – the ones that made him sick to his stomach.

'_Come on, focus! You can do this!'_ He'd be happy if he could just get control of his breathing enough not to hyperventilate. _'Just like Linda taught you… breathe in… breathe out… think about Vanessa, the wedding, the honeymoon…' _

Joe felt the tension in his neck and shoulders begin to slip away. His breathing began to slow down and his heart, while still beating faster than normal, was no longer racing. He focused on Vanessa, their rock solid relationship and their complete devotion to each other. They had overcome more in the past year than most people would endure in a lifetime, and still had a bright and happy future ahead of them. He concentrated on those thoughts exclusively and let them push the horrific memories of screaming children and painful beatings back into his subconscious, ordering them to stay there until he was ready for them to come out and be dealt with.

Joe felt his mouth curl upwards in the hint of a smile, and allowed himself to enjoy the accomplishment. This had been his biggest victory yet over the terrifying memories that had haunted him for over a year. Crossing the room, he took a seat at his desk recalling the therapy session that, although he didn't realize it at the time, had been the turning point…

"_Didn't sleep well last night?" Linda asked softly, closing the door as Joe entered her office._

"_Not particularly." He seemed more subdued than usual._

_Sitting on the couch, Joe laid a hand across the back of it, drumming his fingers nervously as his right leg bounced up and down in accompaniment. As Linda took a seat opposite him, he stared at her intensely. "When are they going to stop?" he demanded, almost accusing. "It's been nine months and the nightmares and the flashbacks… the memories… they're still just as bad as when I first remembered. I thought this therapy was supposed to help!"_

_Linda stared at the troubled young man in front of her. He'd been a difficult patient at best and more than once she had considered terminating their relationship. She knew he wasn't there because he wanted to be, at least in the beginning, feeling he'd been blackmailed into it by his family. It had taken months for her to get past the anger and defensiveness, past the tough guy who insisted he could handle everything just fine on his own. And when she did, she found a devastated boy underneath it all. He had just begun to open up and start to trust her, when he'd been abducted and almost beaten to death in Chicago. _

_They'd had to postpone a multitude of sessions as Joe slowly healed from the abuse and torture. However when he finally returned the fear in his eyes that had only just begun to diminish had returned tenfold. Still worse, he couldn't bring himself to discuss what he had been through at the hands of Keith Rashman. While Joe faithfully attended every session, he was no longer opening up to her like he used to. He was terrified of reliving the abuse, both new and old, refusing to tell her anything, making it impossible for her to help him. _

_After watching him slowly regress for almost a month, something changed. He showed up one day in mid-July, seeming more relaxed than he'd been since he started seeing her. While he still never mentioned what happened in Chicago, he began to open up once again about the horrors he'd witnessed as a child. Yet while she was certain it appeared to Joe's friends and family that he was making progress, she didn't see the changes she'd been hoping for._

_Granted, he talked more openly than ever about what he'd been forced to watch and the beatings he'd been subjected to, but something was always missing. It seemed as if rather than using their now weekly sessions to accept, understand and move past the awful experience, Joe simply wanted to use them as a way to let out all the rage he'd collected since the previous session. Linda finally realized Joe was much better at hiding his true feelings than she'd given him credit for. She now understood he wasn't much further along in dealing with the trauma than he was the first time she'd seen him. He had simply learned how to hide it from those who loved him and let it all out when he saw her. Having decided they needed to have a frank and honest discussion about what Joe really wanted from these sessions, Linda hoped it would finally open his eyes to what he needed to do to truly begin to heal._

"_Joe, I can sit here and listen to you rant and rave for an hour every week for the rest of your life, but it isn't going to help you if you aren't willing to help yourself," she said bluntly._

_Joe glared at her, anger flashing in his eyes. His voice was acid. "You're supposed to be the one helping me. Isn't that what I'm paying you for?"._

_Taken aback at the venomous tone in his voice, it took a moment for her to respond. "I'm trying to help you, but I can only do so up to a certain point." Wondering what had happened to cause Joe to become so hostile, she decided to take a chance. "Joe, has something happened? I've seen you angry, depressed and short-tempered but never hostile."_

_Joe stood abruptly and walked to the window, staring out at the people on the sidewalk below. Linda knew she had struck a nerve; he always did this when he didn't want her to see the abject terror on his face from whatever demons were tormenting him on that particular day. When Joe clutched his left arm close to his body and began rubbing it, she knew immediately which demon was haunting him today._

_Standing, Linda followed him to the window but remained behind him. Reaching out she rested her hand on his back, patiently waiting until Joe was ready to talk._

_When Joe spoke, his voice shook. "I have to cancel our session next week. Maybe the week after, too." _

"_Okay. Can I ask why?"_

"_I have to go to Chicago." Linda felt him shiver beneath her hand. "Rashman's trial starts on Monday."_

Joe shook his head, remembering that grueling session. The memories of what he'd been forced to watch as a little boy had been mingling with the abuse he'd suffered at the hands of Keith Rashman, resulting in the worst nightmares of his life. He had understood what was triggering the memories of Rashman, but after spending so much time talking to Linda about the three days he'd been held by Joshua Tilghman, he had expected progress by now. He felt the only progress he'd made was in learning how to better hide his fears from those closest to him – and it was eating him up inside…

_Joe turned to face her, anguish written all over his face, his voice breaking. "Why haven't I been able to get past this?" _

_Linda took his arm and shepherded him back to the couch. Now sitting beside him, she hoped he was ready to listen and really hear what she had to say._

"_I can't wave a magic wand or give you a pill so that it will all go away over night," she began softly. "And just talking about it will help, but at some point you have to take the next step. Joe, you have been fighting that step tooth and nail and until you are willing to take it, there isn't much more I can do for you."_

"_What the hell does that mean?!" Joe yelled angrily. "That I've wasted my time talking to you for the last nine months?!"_

"_Of course not." She sighed inwardly. Linda had grown used to Joe's angry outbursts from time to time and recognized them for what they were – a shield he threw up to prevent others from seeing how terrified he really was; and a distraction so he wouldn't have to admit it to himself._ _"You have to make a conscious decision to put it behind you and leave it there. It's a part of your past, but unless you actively choose to make it stay there, it will continue to be your present and it will become your future."_

"_So you're saying I'm supposed to just put it behind me and forget it ever happened?!" Joe yelled again, not willing to give up the shield just yet._

"_That's not what I meant and you know it," Linda countered. "What happened to you is something you'll never forget. But it doesn't mean you have to relive it on a daily basis. You don't have to live knowing every time you hear a child scream or see a parent reprimanding their kids that you'll be paralyzed by the memories that come back at you._

"_You can minimize the flashbacks, learn how to control the intensity of them, and your reactions to them. You can break the hold they have on you. You might even be able to get to the point where if something triggers them, you can turn them off completely." Linda stopped and stared at her patient. She thought she had finally seen a glimmer of understanding in his eyes. Buoyed by that hope, she pressed on. _

"_I can help you find the best tools to do that. But unless you choose to learn how to use them, those three days will control you for the rest of your life." She hesitated briefly, wondering if she should voice her final thought, given what Joe was facing in the next two weeks. Deciding to have faith that it would push him in the right direction once he returned home, she plunged ahead. "If you aren't willing to make that choice, I don't know that there is much more I can do to help you. It might be best if we terminated these sessions until you're ready to take the next step."_

Joe leaned back in his chair, remembering the gamut of emotions he'd felt at that moment. Fear, anger, rage, helplessness… and hope. He promised Linda he would think seriously about everything she said and give her an answer when he returned from Chicago. As it turned out, the brutal trial and subsequent conviction of Rashman on all counts had turned out to be the key to Joe's decision. Feeling as if a weight had been lifted and he'd finally been given some closure to that horrifying situation, he returned home ready to tackle his last remaining demons.

He had begun to see Linda two or three times a week and threw himself into the 'homework' she assigned him. At times he thought it was fruitless and not worth the agonizing effort he had to put into it. Nothing seemed to be changing except the increased pressure he was putting on himself to make progress and the increasing feelings of failure when he felt it wasn't happening fast enough. Then, slowly, Joe began to notice a change. A screaming child no longer sent him into a tailspin; a parent speaking in raised voices to their offspring no longer made him see Joshua Tilghman approaching him with a belt or a two by four in his hands.

And this morning had been his biggest victory yet. When faced with the reality that the uncle who unwittingly allowed him to be kidnapped might be making a reappearance in his life, he was able to hold back the memories that wanted to be set free to wreak havoc on his mind. Reaching for the phone, he punched in Linda's number, wanting to share his victory with the one person who had given him the tools to make it happen.

oooOOOooo

Frank glanced at the clock on the wall, calculating how much time he could spend researching the new computer software he wanted to buy for the agency and still be home in time for dinner with his wife. He smiled, just now realizing the day had unfolded with no emotional outbursts or near meltdowns for Joe or his mother. The three of them had gone out for lunch with Joe's exuberant personality taking center stage. While Laura Hardy had seemed a bit tired, she nevertheless returned Joe's wisecracks without missing a beat, giving Frank hope that his father had been worrying unnecessarily.

"Here ya go."

The sound of Joe's voice and something landing on his desk snapped Frank out of his daydreams.

Joe pointed to the disc he'd tossed on the desk. "My final report on the Harper case."

"Thanks." Frank picked it up, sliding the disc into a protective case before placing it in the appropriate file.

"If you don't need me for anything else, I'm gonna head out."

"Nope, nothing else."

"Cool. I'm meeting Biff at the gym for a quick workout before I go home," he said, referring to his best friend since grade school. "Wanna come?"

"No, thanks. I want to check out that new software the FBI has been using; see if it might be worth getting here." Frank leaned back in the chair, clasping his hands behind his head.

Joe rolled his eyes. "My brother the computer geek."

"May I remind you that your fiancée is just as big a computer geek as I am – maybe more so," Frank shot back.

Joe replied with a lascivious smile and raised eyebrows. "Yeah, but she's a sexy computer geek… a _very_ sexy computer geek."

Frank leaned forward on the desk, assuming a hurt expression. "Are you saying I'm not sexy?"

Grinning, Joe put up his hands defensively and backpedaled a few steps. "I am sooooooo not going there!" Turning, he swiftly headed for the door. With a shout of "See ya tomorrow!" and a wave of his hand, Joe was gone.

Frank smiled to himself. "So far, so good." It appeared that once Fenton Hardy had left for the airport that morning, Joe hadn't given Jeff Cutter a second thought. _'Maybe this won't be so bad after all.'_ Frank returned his attention to the computer. _'Dad will find Kevin, come on home and everything will be back to normal.'_


	7. Chapter 7

Sorry for the delay in posting this chapter. I'm on vacation! First real vacation in six years – lounging on the beach in North Myrtle Beach, SC! So my whole concept of which day it is, is all out of whack.

**Shared Sorrow**

**Chapter 7**

"Excuse me, Mr. Hardy, may I refill your coffee?"

The flight attendant drew Fenton's attention away from the laptop in front of him. "Yes, thank you," he smiled.

Much to his relief, Fenton had been able to get a seat in First class. Jeff Cutter was on the same flight and Fenton hadn't relished the thought of being Jeff's captive audience for the four-plus hours it would take to reach Arizona. Seated in First class he knew there was no chance of seeing Jeff during the flight unless he chose to. Fenton chuckled and sipped the hot coffee, recalling the look of mild surprise on Jeff's face when he saw Fenton boarding with the few other First class passengers.

'_Mean-spirited? Maybe, but after what he cost Joe… and Vanessa…'_ Fenton thought, not feeling the least bit guilty.

Returning his attention to the laptop, Fenton focused on the website for Kevin's employer, Myelin Manufacturing. With virtually nothing to go on Fenton knew he'd have to probe every aspect of Kevin's life, letting nothing escape his scrutiny. He decided to use the time spent traveling to check the most easily accessible part of Kevin's life – his job.

Fenton went over the company's website in excruciating detail, making sure to study every link no matter how unimportant it appeared. Over the years he'd often found things that seemed inconsequential were the key to breaking an investigation wide open. As a result, nothing was considered meaningless.

He learned Myelin Manufacturing was located in a town about thirty miles outside of Phoenix. It had been started by Marcus Andresson over fifty years earlier and specialized in making and repairing parts for the various machines used in offices and retail business. Over the years, the company had kept pace with changing technology and was now the number one maker of computer chips in the country. It was still run by the same family, with Marcus Andresson III now the Chief Executive Officer. The company prided itself on treating all of its employees as family and in fact several of Marcus' close friends held the positions in the highest levels of management. Both Marcus Andresson and his company were well known for giving back to the community and were held in high esteem by the citizens and local government of the small town.

With all the new technological devices appearing on the market seemingly on a daily basis, the company was doing extremely well. Their stock prices – and profits – had soared over the last decade, making their stock one of the most sought-after by knowledgeable investors.

After studying the company's website for almost two hours, Fenton sat back and rubbed his eyes tiredly. There was absolutely nothing contained in the public information that raised even the slightest suspicion. Frowning in disgust, Fenton realized he needed to know the specifics of Kevin's job. He had hoped to make it to Arizona and out of the airport without having to give his brother-in-law so much as a passing glance. He now realized that would be impossible. Resigning himself to the inevitable, Fenton sighed and released his seat belt. He stepped out in the aisle and stretched. Picking up a pen and notepad, he made his way back to coach.

Spotting an empty seat across the aisle from Jeff, Fenton strode forward and sat down. "I need some information," he said curtly, surprising Jeff with his sudden appearance.

"Sure, anything to help," Jeff stammered.

Fenton couldn't help but feel a little pleased that Jeff was so uncomfortable around him. _'A small price to pay for what you put my son through…'_

Shaking off the resentful thoughts, Fenton bombarded Jeff with question after question, making the information-gathering session sound more like an interrogation. Fenton took fastidious notes, keeping his gaze squarely on the notepad and never once making eye contact with Jeff.

Growing silent, Fenton leaned back and studied the new information. Kevin worked in the financial department at Myelin Manufacturing. He was one of several employees who reported directly to the vice president in charge of acquiring new clients for the company. Kevin was responsible for preparing spreadsheets, reports, charts, graphs and other visual aids that would highlight the financial benefits to both companies should the new client choose Myelin for their computer chip needs.

As he studied the notes, Fenton frowned. There didn't seem to be anything in Kevin's job duties that would warrant a kidnapping. As a kernel of frustration planted itself in his mind, Fenton's arm was bumped causing the pen to slide across the page leaving a garish mark.

"Tyler, come back here!" a female voice cried out. The only response to her demand was a high-pitched squeal of laughter.

Fenton looked up to see a small blonde boy, running up the aisle in a blur of movement.

"_Now_, Tyler!" a male voice demanded, exasperation tempered with obvious affection.

Watching with open amusement, Fenton saw the little boy stop and slowly turn around. With a look that could melt even the coldest heart, he began making his way back towards his parents. Literally bouncing down the aisle, Tyler had a ready smile and some kind of greeting for everyone he passed. As he reached Fenton, the little boy stopped and looked at the notepad, his eyes fixed on the black streak across the page. He looked up and Fenton's heart skipped a beat. The impish grin, the playful personality, the sparkling blue eyes that held a mischievous twinkle…

'_He's the spitting image of Joe at that age.'_ Fenton smiled and winked conspiratorially at the little boy, as his rather embarrassed parents finally corralled him.

Hearing the flight attendant's announcement that they were on final approach, Fenton glanced back at the little boy and his parents, who were trying to get the squirming and obviously excited child buckled in, feeling a sense of déjà vu. Without so much as a second glance at Jeff, Fenton returned to his seat and began putting his laptop away in preparation for landing.

After disembarking from the plane, Fenton went straight to the restroom to freshen up before heading to the car rental agency. As he turned to leave the restroom, Fenton literally ran into Tyler who had apparently preceded his father into the bathroom with enthusiasm.

"Whoa, Cowboy!" Fenton laughed, steadying the small boy who had run straight into his legs.

"Tyler!" his father called out, sounding tired. When he saw Fenton, he looked more than a little embarrassed. Scooping the little boy up in his arms, he scolded his son. "I've told you a thousand times not to run away from me! We could get separated and I'd never want to lose you!"

As Fenton listened to the conversation, his heart ached. How many times had he said something similar to Joe as a little boy? Anger at his brother-in-law quickly resurfaced as he was reminded yet again that Joe had never gotten 'lost' when in the care of his parents or his older brother. It was only when he'd been entrusted to Laura's sister and her husband, who swore they wouldn't let Joe out of their sight for a second, that he'd disappeared.

'_We told them,'_ Fenton thought bitterly, still harboring a modicum of guilt at having trusted his son to them. _'We warned them not to take their eyes off Joe for a second; that he'd take off in a heartbeat if something caught his attention.'_ As he'd done for the past eighteen years, Fenton conveniently ignored the fact that Joe hadn't wandered off that day; he'd been forcibly abducted.

Having intimate knowledge of the way the criminal mind worked, Fenton had drilled it into his sons from a very young age that they should _never_ wander away from the adults who were with them, no matter what. While Frank took the warning to heart, Joe occasionally forgot when he saw something that he felt needed exploring immediately. Joe's friendly, outgoing personality and penchant for chatting up total strangers didn't make it any easier to keep tabs on him.

A fleeting memory of a frantic phone call from Laura tried to push its way up to conscious thought, causing Fenton a moment of intense distress. He quickly forced it back into the dark recesses of his mind, refusing to acknowledge its existence. No, Laura had never let Joe out of her sight; never. Neither had he. They weren't like Jeff and Carole; not at all…

"I'm so sorry." The man's voice brought Fenton back to the present. "My son seems to keep running into you today. It's his first time on a plane and he's very excited. Even more than usual."

"No apologies necessary." Fenton reached out to tousle the little boy's hair. "He reminds me of my son when he was a child."

"You had one this bad?" The man gazed at his son with obvious affection.

"Worse."

The young man groaned. "Please tell me they mellow as they grow up."

Fenton chuckled and shook his head sympathetically. "I can tell you from personal experience, this is only the beginning." He watched Tyler snuggle closer to his father, all the while looking at Fenton with a mixture of innocence and mischief. "I can also tell you it's worth every second," he added softly.

He suddenly missed the way Joe, as a child, would literally leap into his arms when he returned home from a case that had taken him out of town. He'd have to carry Joe around the house for what seemed like hours, while Joe talked a mile a minute, cuddling close to his father and bringing him up to date on all the exciting things he and Frank had done during Fenton's absence.

"Does he have kids of his own now?" the man asked curiously.

"Not yet. He and his fiancée are getting married in the fall," Fenton replied and then smiled. "But if there is any justice in this world, when he does become a father, he'll be blessed with a little carbon copy of himself."

The man laughed. "I hear ya!"

Readjusting the bags on his shoulder, Fenton extended his hand to the little boy. "Tyler, it was a pleasure to meet you."

Tyler reached out, trying to wrap his little fingers around Fenton's hand and shake. Giggling at the size difference, Tyler quickly withdrew his hand and partially hid his face on his father's shoulder, causing Fenton's heart to melt a little more.

As Fenton nodded a goodbye, he headed for the exit. Tyler's voice echoed behind him. "Bye-bye!" Turning, Fenton saw the brilliant blue eyes staring at him as the little boy grinned and waved enthusiastically.

"Goodbye, Tyler." Walking through the airport terminal, Fenton felt an unexpected sense of melancholy and homesickness. Picking up the pace, he hoped finding Kevin would be one of those textbook cases that he could solve with his eyes closed; suddenly he wanted nothing more than to be back home with his wife and sons.


	8. Chapter 8

Thank you to max, amblewat, whashaza, Kimuthy and Cheryl for the reviews, and thanks to all who are reading.

**Shared Sorrow**

**Chapter 8**

It was mid-afternoon by the time Fenton Hardy stepped into the lobby of the Phoenix Police Department. While waiting for the paperwork for his rental car to be completed, he'd called and made an appointment to see John Gainey. After a brief stop to check in at his hotel, he drove to the police station, wanting to see what Detective Gainey had uncovered in his investigation and get the man's opinion on exactly what he thought had happened to Kevin.

After checking in with the receptionist, Fenton was asked to wait while she paged Detective Gainey. A few moments later a man approached him, hand outstretched in greeting. In his late thirties, with wavy brown hair and hazel eyes, John Gainey wore faded blue jeans and a navy blue, button down shirt, his badge clipped to his belt.

"Mr. Hardy? I'm John Gainey." He smiled and gave Fenton a firm handshake. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

"Thank you, and please, call me Fenton."

"Only if you'll call me John."

Fenton smiled. "Deal."

John led Fenton across the lobby to the elevators. "So you're looking into the Cutter case?" Stepping on, he pressed the button for the third floor.

"Yes. Kevin's father seems to think he didn't simply just up and leave town," Fenton replied evasively.

The elevator whooshed open and Fenton followed Gainey through a small room crowded with desks, most with plain clothes officers seated behind them, either talking on the phone or filling out paperwork. _'Looks like every other police department I've ever been in.'_ He sat in the chair next to John's desk and accepted the folder Gainey offered him.

Fenton spent several minutes looking over the information. It was essentially the same thing Jeff had related to him the previous evening. He'd hoped there would be a little more for him to work with in the official police report and then silently chided himself. If the police had found anything of significance, he wouldn't need to be here. Closing the file, he looked up. "What's your take on Kevin's disappearance?"

Gainey shrugged. "There's no sign of foul play, and nothing to indicate Kevin was forcibly abducted." He waited a beat and added, "But if he left of his own free will, he took nothing but the clothes on his back. That's not completely unheard of, but most people who run away to get a new start take _something_."

Fenton nodded in agreement. He thought back on the few missing persons cases he'd solved where the person had been alive and well and simply didn't want to be found. And he'd been able to locate all of them by the financial trail they left. Money was the one thing everyone needed to survive. "Did you pull his financials?"

"Mm-hmm. No activity. No sudden large withdrawals from his checking or savings accounts, no cash advances before he disappeared, no loans taken out recently, no activity on his credit cards. In fact his paycheck was direct deposited the day _after_ he disappeared."

"Odd," Fenton mused. "If he _chose_ to disappear, he'd need some seed money."

"And that's what always bothered me about this case." Gainey leaned back in his chair and clasped his hands behind his head. "If he's starting over somewhere else, what's he starting with?

"I tried to convince my boss that was reason enough to keep digging, but he disagreed. No foul play, no ransom demands, no body and no suspects. He told me to put it on the back burner. Said the guy's less than stellar childhood lends itself quite nicely to the idea that he got fed up and just wanted a fresh start."

Fenton stiffened. "What does his childhood have to do with it?"

"You know the family is always the first to be suspected. I had to do some digging into their background so I could eliminate them as suspects. His childhood wasn't the best I've ever seen."

"What exactly did you find out?" Fenton asked guardedly. Did Gainey know Kevin was his nephew? Did he know the reason for the estrangement between the Hardys and the Cutters?

After Tilghman's trial, Fenton had been adamant that any information that could be used to identify Joe in the public records be changed. Joe had simply become 'Victim J'. Still, Fenton knew from experience that a cop could find out the identity of an anonymous victim if they really wanted to. He'd done it himself.

"It's all in there," John answered vaguely and waved at the file in Fenton's lap. Standing, Gainey smiled apologetically. "Sorry to cut this short, but I have to meet the D.A. about an upcoming case. I can show you where the copier is on my way out. Just leave the file on my desk when you're done."

"Thank you. I will."

The two men walked silently to a small alcove near the front of the room. "Here you go." John pointed to the machine. "Extra paper is underneath if you need it. And if you find anything new, please let me know. I'd love to re-open this case."

Fenton shook hands with the detective, promising to keep him updated. Slowly he began to copy the file, page after page. He wondered about Gainey's cryptic comments and fought the urge to sit down right there and devour the contents of the report. What had Gainey uncovered about the Cutter family? What could have happened that could cause Kevin to want to run away; to forget his family and never look back? And had the detective discovered anything about Joe in the course of his investigation?

Once he'd finished copying everything, Fenton returned the file to Gainey's desk. Checking his watch, he frowned. It was almost four o'clock. He'd hoped to stop at Myelin Manufacturing and talk to Kevin's coworkers before heading back to his hotel but it was too late now. He wouldn't have much time there before they closed for the day. He thought about going to Kevin's house to look around but the copies he just made seemed to be burning a hole in his hand.

Walking back to his rental, Fenton decided to return to his hotel and hole up there for the evening, studying the contents of the file. Tossing the papers on the seat next to him, he stared at them for a long moment. Shaking his head, he started the car. As he had done so many times in the last twenty-four hours, he wondered if he'd made the right decision in agreeing to try and find Kevin.

oooOOOooo

Frank walked through the darkened offices of Hardy and Sons Investigations, making sure everything was locked up for the night, and left through the door that connected the offices to the Hardy home. Walking down the hall he emerged into the foyer of the house where he grew up. Turning right he continued on into the kitchen, and poked his head through the swinging door.

"Mom?" He glancedeH H m,. fsdiwepoi H around the empty room, then stepped back into the hallway. After checking the living room, dining room and den with no sign of his mother, Frank headed up to the second floor.

Walking past the two bedrooms that had belonged to him and Joe he smiled, recalling many a happy childhood memory. He looked in the guest room, the bathroom and his parents' room. Still not finding his mother, Frank stood in the hall scratching his head when he noticed the door at the end of the hall was ajar.

"_I woke up about three o'clock this morning and found her in the attic going through the boxes…and crying."_

Staring at the door that led to the attic stairs, Frank slowly walked towards them, not looking forward to what he might find. Pushing the door open a little further, he climbed the steps and emerged into the dimly lit room at the top.

Laura was seated on the floor surrounded by boxes – some open, some taped shut. A few items, mostly framed pictures or scrapbooks, were scattered on the floor around her.

"Mom?"

Laura started and turned towards Frank. "I didn't hear you come up."

"Sorry. Job hazard." Frank flushed a little in embarrassment. Over the years he'd honed the ability to approach people or enter a room without making a sound. It now came as naturally to him as breathing. More than once he'd almost scared his wife, Callie, to death by soundlessly coming up behind her, intending on doing nothing more threatening than surprising her with a kiss.

Frank walked the few steps to where his mother sat and picked up a picture off the floor. "What are you doing up here?" Settling comfortably on the floor next to her, he looked at the picture in his hands for a moment. Four smiling children were seated on a sandy beach surrounding a pretty pathetic looking excuse for a sand castle. He recognized himself and Joe, at probably around five and four years old. He assumed the boy and girl in the picture, who were around the same ages, were his cousins.

"Kevin and Kelly?" he asked, still staring at the picture.

"Mm-hmm. We had moved to Bayport the previous year. It was your first trip to the beach here." Laura said softly, looking at the picture over his shoulder.

"Man, Joe must've been one hurtin' puppy the next day!" His brother's skin had a pinkish hue, indicating the beginnings of nasty sunburn.

"Oh, he was. I put sunscreen on him – both of you – before we left. He hated that stuff. I didn't realize until we got home that he'd thrown it out the window before we ever left the driveway. I ran over it when we came back." She smiled recalling the incident. "All day, while we were at the beach I'd keep telling him I needed to put more sunscreen on him. Every time I did, he'd smile that smile and say, _"Frankie already did!"_"

"He told you _I _put sunscreen on him?!" Frank exclaimed. "That little brat. Served him right, then."

"Uh-huh." Laura arched an eyebrow at her older son as she took the picture back. "Who do you think hovered over him like a mother hen for days until he started to feel better?" She grinned as Frank's face reddened.

Picking up a photo album, he absently flipped through it. "So what're you doing up here all by yourself?"

Laura's expression changed, clouding over with unhappiness. "I'm packing it all up so I can get rid of it – for good." She retrieved a few more items on the floor and put them in one of the open boxes. As she reached for the photo album Frank held, he put a hand on her arm.

"Are you sure you want to do that?" he asked quietly. Looking back at the pictures in the album, he saw his parents at a much younger age, seated next to two other adults who he knew had to be Jeff and Carole Cutter. The photo had been taken in a restaurant and all four of them were holding glasses of champagne in a toast.

Extricating her arm, Laura took the album, her eyes falling on the picture. "We had just bought our very first house - this house. We rented when we lived in New York City. Jeff and Carole took us out to dinner to celebrate." She stared at the photo a moment longer, then closed the album and put it in one of the open boxes. "And yes, I'm sure."

Frank didn't want to presume he knew how his mother felt. Heck, he didn't have a clue! But from what his father had told him about how close Laura and Carole had been, he just wasn't sure doing something so _permanent_ was a good idea. Obviously Laura still held very strong feelings towards her sister for her part in Joe's kidnapping. But what if her feelings changed at some point down the road? Wouldn't she be distraught at having destroyed every memory of her sister?

Then again Frank felt nothing but unbridled anger when he thought of his aunt and uncle and he didn't even remember the incident. He barely even remembered Jeff and Carole. Still, he didn't want his mother to do something in the heat of anger that she'd regret later. The boxes filled with memories had been sitting in the Hardys' attic for over seventeen years now. She obviously hadn't thought about them until Jeff Cutter's sudden appearance.

Frank had never stumbled upon them and as far as he knew, neither had Joe. In fact they usually only went into the attic twice a year, at Christmas time, to retrieve and then later put away, the multitude of decorations Laura insisted on hanging every holiday season. They'd never even ventured far enough into the attic to know these boxes existed. Why was it so important to his mother to dispose of these boxes _now_?

"I thought Carole was the best mother in the world."

Frank had been so lost in thought his mother's sudden announcement startled him. He now saw a faraway look in her blue eyes; one that was filled with regret and betrayal.

"She was like my mentor. She didn't have any more experience at motherhood than I did, but she was a natural at it. She made it look effortless. It was like she was born to be a mother. I used to call her all the time when you boys were little, panicked and needing advice."

She had been smiling a bittersweet smile, obviously recalling some of those phone conversations when suddenly her expression turned to one of absolute betrayal.

"If I thought for one second Joe wasn't safe with her…" Laura swiped at a tear and swallowed. "When she allowed Joe to be kidnapped, my whole world was destroyed. I completely fell apart. I mean this was my sister! My God, if I couldn't trust _her_ with my son, who could I trust?"

Laura stopped and looked at Frank, almost as if she were searching for an answer. Seeing the look of disillusionment that passed over her face, Frank's heart broke for his mother. "She insisted on staying with me until Joe was found. At first I thought it would help, but the more she was here the more I hated her. It was her fault my baby was gone." Laura closed her eyes, her lower lip trembling. "When your Dad finally called and said he'd found Joe I told her to leave. She never set foot in this house again."

Frank was surprised at the confession. "You told her to leave? And never come back?"

"No, no. I mean at the time it never occurred to me that it would end the way it did. I thought I could get past it - eventually - and reconcile with her. I knew our relationship would never, _ever_ be the same but at the time I didn't think it would just… end." Laura sighed, letting out a shaky breath and Frank suddenly felt guilty for pushing her with his questions.

"Listen, Mom, we don't have to talk about this. If this is too difficult, it's really none of my business…" Frank stumbled over the words, unsure of how to comfort his mother.

Laura reached out and took his hand, squeezing it gently. "Actually, I'd like to talk about it. If you don't mind?"

Frank shook his head and Laura continued her story, never letting go of his hand.

"After your father found Joe, when I found out what he'd been through, I was inconsolable. When I'd see him playing with you and your friends – with Kelly and Kevin – like nothing had ever happened, I couldn't stop crying. Every day I cried and cried because he was acting so _normal_."

Why would she be upset that Joe didn't remember anything? Did she _want_ him to remember it? Frank realized she must have understood the look of utter confusion on his face.

"I cried because what happened to him was so horrifying, so traumatizing, that his psyche wouldn't allow him to remember any of it. Nothing! He was so young and he was forced to witness things that were so terrifying he repressed it; _all_ of it. I can't even imagine…" Her voice trailed off for a moment and she shook her head sadly.

"Then one day the psychiatrist who'd been treating Joe said we didn't need to bring him anymore. She said his subconscious knew he couldn't deal with it yet and that's why he didn't remember anything. There was no need for counseling for something he couldn't even remember. I asked her what would happen if something sparked a memory, someone he saw or something he heard, before he was ready; how would it affect him? She said if Joe were inadvertently forced to remember anything before he was ready, the results could be devastating."

Frank recalled what happened the previous year when Joe finally _did_ remember._ 'They almost were!'_

"I was afraid seeing Carole or Jeff might trigger something in Joe and he'd remember everything before he was ready to deal with it. I had no other choice; my child _had_ to come first. I felt that the only thing I could do to protect Joe was to cut Carole out of my life completely. It was the only way I could be certain he wouldn't see or hear something that would force those memories to resurface. I had to do it.

"It didn't help matters that a month later I still couldn't see or talk to Carole without feeling an uncontrollable anger. I _trusted_ her, Frank. I trusted her to take care of Joe! There were two of them there at the park for God's sake! Couldn't one of them have kept an eye on him?" Laura stopped, realizing how deeply she was reliving the past and took a few deep breaths. "In the end it didn't matter; I knew our relationship would never be the same. So, I went to Carole's house and told her. I told her I had to cut her out of my life. Her and her family. I wasn't going to risk Joe's sanity just to have an overly strained relationship with my sister."

"How'd she take it?" Frank asked with more than a little trepidation. _He_ was the older brother. While listening to his mother, he couldn't help but put himself in Carole's shoes and Joe in Laura's. He was trying to imagine how he'd feel, how he'd react, if Joe came to him one day and completely severed their relationship. He found it was impossible to even imagine.

"She said she understood, but I know she was devastated. A few weeks later, they moved to Arizona. You know the rest."

Watching his mother while she spoke, Frank had seen a deep sadness in her eyes as well as a look of fierce protectiveness. He felt a tremendous loss for her and wondered how Carole had been able to cope with being cut out of her younger sister's life for good. Still, something nagged at him. "Mom, can I ask you a question?"

"Of course, honey."

"I completely understand why you severed your relationship with Aunt Carole. You did it to protect Joe."

Laura nodded slowly, her eyes wary.

"It's been a year since Joe remembered. Have you thought about contacting her at all since then?" Frank saw her eyebrows shoot up in surprise and caught a fleeting glimpse of what looked like guilt in her eyes. Slowly Laura shook her head.

"I couldn't do that. I'd feel like it would be saying that just because Joe remembered, everything was fine now. And it's not. A sick, twisted pedophile took Joe right out from under their eyes. That will _never_ be okay." She looked at Frank, sorrow etched on her face. Sorrow for the sister she lost; sorrow for her child; sorrow for herself.

Frank's heart ached for his mother. She had voluntarily severed a cherished relationship with her sister to protect her child. Could he do the same thing if he had to? Choose between Joe and his own child?

'_We'd never put ourselves in a situation like that,'_ Frank told himself resolutely, trying to shake off the despair he suddenly felt. A chill shot through him as another thought came out of nowhere. _'Like Carole and Jeff put themselves in that situation on purpose?'_ Not liking where this internal monologue was heading, Frank focused all his attention on his mother. "Mom, why don't you let me finish packing this stuff for you?"

Laura gazed at the boxes around her, her eyes resting on each one as if she had the contents memorized. She picked up a picture of the two families at a picnic. Eight smiling faces beamed back at her. She stared at the picture for several moments and then handed it to Frank. She got up and left, without uttering another word.


	9. Chapter 9

Cheryl, kimuthy, whashaza, and max – thanks for the reviews. Cheryl, I laughed out loud at your suggested story list! If I can ever just get Joe and Vanessa married, I'll be happy. Thank you to all who are reading.

**Shared Sorrow**

**Chapter 9**

Fenton Hardy sat in his hotel room, absently picking at the room service dinner balanced precariously on the edge of the desk. Spread out in front of him were the papers he'd copied at the police station. He'd been engrossed in them for the last two hours, both for the details about the investigation itself and the unnerving information John Gainey had uncovered about the Cutter family.

'_Alcoholism. Depression. Drug dependency. DUI. Unemployment. Bankruptcy.''_

Fenton gathered up the papers and put them back in the folder. He sat back, suddenly ill at ease. All these years he had been absolutely certain that once the Cutters moved to Arizona they'd lived a very happy life, blissfully ignorant of the entire Hardy family and the repercussions of Joe's kidnapping.

Standing, he began to pace the small room. Pausing from time to time Fenton stared blankly out the tenth-floor window, raking a hand through his dark hair. Had Jeff and Carole been able to forget what happened once they moved? _'Out of sight, out of mind, right?'_ Or were they just as haunted by Joe's abduction and their part in it? So haunted that it had affected their entire lives? And their childrens'?

The minutest twinge of sympathy that was trying to grab Fenton's attention was quickly obliterated by anger and resentment. No. It was _his_ family who had suffered. He and Laura were the ones who had to live with the memory of Joe's ordeal every single day of their lives, fearing he'd remember too soon with possibly devastating consequences.

It was Frank who had to watch in silence as Joe's subconscious allowed the memories to slowly emerge. He'd been over three thousand miles away when Joe finally did remember and still hadn't forgiven himself for that.

It was Joe who briefly lost all touch with reality when the memories came crashing back and then quickly spiraled into a severe depression. A depression that still resurfaced from time to time.

And then there was Vanessa. She hadn't even known who Joe Hardy was when this whole tragedy started. Yet it was Vanessa who perhaps paid the biggest price of all.

It was his family who had suffered. The Cutters had moved thousands of miles away, leaving the pain they'd inflicted far behind, not giving the Hardys a second thought. That had been Fenton's fervent belief for the past eighteen years and he wasn't about to give it up now. Whatever hardships had befallen Laura's sister and her family had nothing to do with Joe's kidnapping; nothing to do with Laura's decision to turn her back on Carole; and it most certainly had nothingto do with the contempt Fenton never tried to hide.

Memories he'd buried so deeply they couldn't possibly return suddenly began to ricochet back at him. The anger he couldn't control, the threats he had so freely hurled at his brother-in-law…

'_No,'_ Fenton shook his head vigorously. He had every right to despise Jeff Cutter. His feelings played no part in the self-hatred he'd seen in Jeff's eyes; the hatred that had still been present last night.

Turning he leaned against the window and sighed. His eyes fell on the folder and he felt a twinge of…

'_No! I will not feel sorry for that man. Whatever happened to him and his family was his own fault.' _

Rubbing a hand over his face, Fenton suddenly felt drained; very tired and very lonely. Glancing at his watch, he smiled. It was time to check in with his family.

oooOOOooo

"Well?" Vanessa was staring at Joe, her blue-grey eyes dancing with excitement.

Joe fixed his gaze on the catalog spread on the table in front of them, purposely avoiding looking at his fiancée. He wanted to laugh out loud at the ridiculousness of it all, but wisely suppressed the urge. He could tell this was very important to Vanessa and was apparently an integral part of the wedding plans.

"Uh… well…" Joe stuttered. _'I can't believe I'm missing a basketball game for this!'_

"Come on, Joe, you must have a preference," Vanessa pressed him. "Do you like this one or that one better? Or maybe you want to look at some of the others?" She eagerly reached across the table to a teetering stack of catalogs and brochures.

"No!" Joe yelped and grabbed her arm, startling her in the process. She turned wide eyes on him, a look of bewilderment on her face. Joe opened his mouth to speak, having no idea what he was going to say when the phone rang. "I'll get it!" Joe launched himself out of the chair grabbed the phone. "Hello?"

"Joe? What's wrong?" Fenton Hardy's voice echoed in Joe's ear, but he was too worked up to notice the worried tone.

"You promised you'd help me with this!" Joe hissed into the phone. Walking into the kitchen he glanced over his shoulder to make sure Vanessa hadn't heard. He needn't have worried as she was flipping through the pages of the catalog, humming softly with an endearing smile on her face. "You _and_ Frank! Why didn't you warn me?!"

"Warn you?" Fenton sounded confused. "About what?"

"Napkins!" Joe growled.

"Napkins?"

"Napkins! _NAPKINS_!" Joe repeated, waving his hand wildly in the air. "According to Vanessa we _have_ to have napkins with our names and the wedding date on the tables at the reception! And they _have_ to be just the right color, with just the right squiggly design around the edges! Oh and the hearts! _Don't_ forget the hearts! They _must_ have little hearts on them!

"And apparently if I screw up in choosing the _perfect_ napkin, with the _perfect_ design and the _perfect_ squiggles and the _perfect_ hearts, our wedding will be ruined and the world as we know it will cease to exist!" Joe exhaled loudly, a shuddering, energy-sapping breath and slumped against the refrigerator. Bracing himself against the doors, he slid down and sat on the floor. Joe leaned his head back and closed his eyes, sighing dramatically. "Why didn't you warn me about the napkins, Dad?"

Joe heard his father start to chuckle. He pulled the phone away from his ear and glared at it for a few seconds before cradling it in his shoulder. "I'm sooooooo glad you're amused," he griped. "I'm missing a basketball game for this you know!"

"Ah, the sacrifices we make for love."

Joe could hear the smile in his father's voice and couldn't help but grin himself. "Come on, Dad. Don't you have any fatherly advice for me?"

"What do you usually do to get out of the more mundane details of wedding planning?"

While Joe tried to be enthusiastic about the wedding plans and made every effort to fully participate knowing how happy it made Vanessa, the truth was, he couldn't seem to wrap his mind around the importance of color schemes and floral arrangements and… _NAPKINS_!

"I just distract her with-" Joe stopped mid-sentence, feeling his face grow hot. His methods for distracting Vanessa were definitely _not_ something he wanted to share with his father. _'Too late,'_ he thought, as his cheeks began to burn.

Fenton's deep laughter resonated through the phone line. "I'd venture to guess that once you're done distracting her, she won't care what kind of napkins you pick."

"_Dad!_" Joe cried out. Now thoroughly embarrassed, he quickly changed the subject. "So I take it you got there okay? How was the flight?"

"The flight was fine. There was a little boy on it who caused almost as much trouble as you used to."

"What do you mean 'used to'?" Joe asked indignantly. "Are you insinuating I'm losing my touch?"

"Hardly," Fenton replied dryly. "In fact I warned his father about everything he's got to look forward to."

"You'd be bored to tears without me." His father didn't reply verbally, but Joe heard what he thought sounded like a very contented sigh and smiled. A comfortable silence followed and when Fenton spoke again, his voice was quieter and much more serious.

"Joe, are you really okay with this? With my being here?" Fenton hesitated as if he were going to wait for a reply but then rushed forward. "Because if you're not, you can tell me. You know that. I'll come home. They can find someone else."

Joe realized his father was babbling, trying to find the right words to tell Joe nothing was more important to Fenton than he was - and found it touching. It didn't seem all that long ago that they butted heads almost every day, with both of them yelling and neither of them really listening to the other. Through his teenage years and on into college, Joe's rebellious nature seemed to reach new heights and Fenton's patience, at times, had worn very thin.

When he and Frank officially joined Fenton's practice, Joe made a concerted effort to 'grow up', although he felt he still had a ways to go in that area. For his part, Fenton acknowledged and appreciated the changes Joe had made. Still, it was only in the past year that they'd really grown close and built the relationship Joe now cherished.

"Dad," he interrupted softly, "I know. I know you'd come home in a heartbeat if I asked you to. And knowing that is more than enough."

A heavy silence, filled with love, stretched across thousands of miles.

"Okay," Fenton replied, his voice husky. "Just so you know. Well, I better get back to work here. I have a few more phone calls to make yet. Give Vanessa my love."

"I will."

"Enjoy your distraction," Fenton couldn't resist one last teasing remark. "And good luck with the napkins."

"Goodnight, Dad!" Joe huffed good-naturedly and ended the call.

Joe remained seated on the floor for a few moments, enjoying the sense of security that came with knowing a parent's unconditional love. Pushing himself to a standing position, Joe stared at Vanessa, seated on the couch. She had picked up yet another brochure and started to leaf through it. "Okay, Hardy, time to turn on the charm."

On his way back to the living room Joe stopped to replace the phone in the cradle, turn off the ringer and turn down the volume on the answering machine. _'Don't want to be disturbed,' _he thought with a smile as he eased himself down next to Vanessa.

She looked up at him questioningly, but Joe never said a word. Instead he took the brochure from her hands and dropped it on the floor. Brushing a strand of hair off her face, he let his fingertips linger on her cheek. Slowly he leaned down and kissed her. Pulling her closer, he immediately felt her arms slip around his neck.

Teasingly he trailed a string of soft kisses on her face, down her neck… and felt her heart start to race. Vanessa reclined back onto the couch pulling Joe down with her.

"You still have to pick out the napkins when we're done," she said huskily. Seconds later all thoughts of wedding plans and basketball games were forgotten.

oooOOOooo

"_I'm scared, Frank. Where are you?"_

Joe opened his eyes and stared out into the darkened bedroom. He could have sworn he heard a child's voice. He held his breath for a few seconds, listening intently. _'Must've dreamt it.'_

He tried to shake it off but it had been so clear, so distinct. And the child had sounded scared. With a start, Joe felt a shiver of fear race down his spine. His breathing suddenly became harder, faster, more shallow; his heart started to race. _'What the heck?'_

Joe felt the bed shift a little and Vanessa's arms snaked lazily around him. She scooted closer and pressed herself up against his back. "It's okay, Baby," she murmured sleepily. "Go back to sleep."

Joe pulled her arms tighter around him and laced his fingers through hers. It was rare that Vanessa's touch couldn't calm him whenever the darker side of his subconscious insisted on invading his dreams. Closing his eyes, Joe started to fall asleep again within minutes.

"_Please, Frank, please come for me. You promised…" _


	10. Chapter 10

Thanks max, Cheryl, Kimuthy, Morality Professor and Princess of Diamonds for the reviews!

**Shared Sorrow**

**Chapter 10**

Jeff Cutter took a sip of his coffee and stared distractedly out the kitchen window. He detested this small house with the tiny yard; his kids had deserved so much better. And they'd had it when the family first moved to Arizona. The engineering firm he'd worked for in New York City had offices in other areas of the country. Jeff was one of their most talented and creative engineers and when he requested a transfer, they wasted no time in finding a spot for him in their Phoenix office.

The first few years had been okay, but each day images from the videos Fenton had forced him to watch ate away another piece of his soul, and the accompanying guilt ate him alive. One day when he thought he couldn't deal with it for one more second, he discovered the numbing powers of alcohol. In the beginning he only drank when the grief became too overwhelming, but gradually those days seemed to occur with alarming frequency.

Jeff was desperate to know how Joe was coping with the aftereffects of his kidnapping but had no way to find out. He wouldn't dare contact Fenton or Laura and although Carole had _The Bayport Times_ sent to their house it was no help. Coverage of the trial had been extensive but once it was concluded, information on the victims became non-existent. Not that he'd expected anything else; if it were his child he'd be damned if the press got within a hundred miles of them. And Fenton was fiercely protective of his children and their privacy. There was no way he could find out how Joe was faring without being part of the Hardys' very small inner circle.

As the years passed, he noticed the _Times_ took great pride in chronicling the exploits of Fenton Hardy's sons, who apparently aspired to be just like their father. Both boys were also regularly featured in the newspaper's coverage of local high school sports. But the things he desperately needed to know would never make it into the local paper.

So Jeff could only imagine what his nephew was going through and how he was handling the memories of the traumatic incident. Unfortunately, his imagination was quite vivid and his need for information became an obsession. Soon, the only way he could stop thinking about it was to drink – heavily. Carole barely noticed as she was too wrapped up in her own guilt and grief, which she assuaged with Valium. But ultimately it was their own children who suffered, maybe even more than their parents.

Kevin became withdrawn and quiet. At the height of Jeff's struggle with alcoholism, when he lost his job forcing them into bankruptcy and resulting in the loss of their home, Kevin took a part-time job to help keep food on the table. At sixteen years of age, he worked nights and weekends in addition to attending school full-time. His teenaged son had been forced to grow up much sooner than he should have because his father was too busy drowning in a bottle; yet another screw-up in a long list for Jeff.

And then there was Kelly. She'd had Jeff wrapped around her little finger from the day she was born. She was the ultimate Daddy's Girl and learned at an early age how to work that to her advantage. But when they moved to Arizona, things changed. She was no longer the center of her father's universe; his world didn't revolve around her anymore. And while she didn't know all the details, Kelly did know the unwelcome changes in her father revolved around her cousin's kidnapping. Much to Jeff's dismay, by the age of twenty-four Kelly had grown into a bitter, self-absorbed young woman.

Downing the last of his coffee, Jeff acknowledged yet again that his obsession with Joe's well being caused him to let down the two people who needed and depended on him the most – his own children. If he'd only known that taking his eyes off Joe for a few seconds to make sure his own little princess was all right would have such far-reaching consequences. God how he wanted a drink.

Getting up, he walked to the sink and rinsed out the mug then placed it in the dishwasher. Turning his back, he leaned against the counter and rubbed his eyes. He was still tired, physically and emotionally, and would have loved to take one more day off work, but he couldn't. They were barely making ends meet as it was. Working as a manager at the local mini-mart was very different from his former position as one of the highest paid engineers at his firm. Still, he was thankful to have this job. No one wanted to hire a drunk; a man who couldn't even put food on the table for his own family because he'd spent what little money he had on booze to drown his own sorrows.

'_Not a drunk, a recovering alcoholic,'_ he reminded himself. He'd been sober for five years, eight months and two days. And God how he wanted a drink.

Grabbing his keys off the peg hook by the door he left for work, thinking it might not be a bad idea to attend an AA meeting that night.

oooOOOooo

"Hey, Mrs. G." Joe smiled and waved to Hardy Investigations' long time administrator as he walked through the reception area. He couldn't remember a time when Edith Gresham _hadn't_ worked for his father.

"Good morning, Joe," she returned the greeting. "Sam isn't in and Frank is in your office."

"Thanks." Joe continued down the hall to his own office and saw Frank seated in a chair looking over some files.

Frank looked up, acknowledging Joe's arrival, and grinned. "So how goes the napkin crisis?"

Joe stopped and glared at his brother for a moment before replying with a sardonic smile. "Talked to Dad, huh? Well for your information it's all taken care of."

"You picked out the napkins?"

"Yup."

"And Vanessa approved?"

"Of course." Joe settled himself into a leather chair, one leg dangling over the side. "Piece of cake."

Frank eyed him suspiciously, sensing he wasn't getting the full story. "And how exactly did you make this momentous decision?"

Joe's eyes took on a devilish spark and his grin widened. "I asked Van what her three favorites were and then I just did eenie-meeney-miney-moe."

Frank shook his head in amusement and admiration. "Only you could get away with that."

"I know," Joe winked. "Sooooo, what are you doing in my office?" He stared at his brother for a moment as a somewhat uneasy silence fell over them. Frank seemed to redden slightly and Joe quickly figured out why. "Ah, now I get it. Dad wanted you to check up on me, make sure I was okay." When Frank's blush deepened, he knew he was right.

"He's still a little worried about you, that's all."

Joe sighed, wondering if being the baby of the family meant this would go on for the rest of his life. "He doesn't need to be. And neither do you. As far as I'm concerned, it's just another missing persons case. Dad has solved hundreds of them before without our help and he can do it this time too. He'll probably have it all wrapped up and be home by the weekend." Joe leaned forward and looked at Frank earnestly. "Last night he told me – again – that he'd drop the case in a heartbeat if I asked him to."

"And he would."

"I know that. I also know that in his entire career, Dad has _never_ voluntarily dropped a case without seeing it through to the end. So knowing he'd do it for me…" Joe shrugged, a little embarrassed. "That's more than enough. So when he calls this morning you can tell him in all honesty, that I'm fine with it. Okay?"

"Okay." Frank stood, as did Joe, who took the files Frank had been reading. "Background on that possible insurance fraud case. Guy claims he got hurt at work and is out on extended disability. The company thinks he's faking it to collect disability payments. Sam is tailing the guy today to see if he does anything that would prove he's not disabled.

"He left a list of people to call who might have seen the guy physically exerting himself. Can you call them and use that Joe Hardy charm to see if they'll cough up anything we can use?"

"No problem."

"I'll check in with you later."

"Mm-hmm," Joe mumbled, already engrossed in the file. As he turned towards his desk, Frank brushed past him, bumping Joe's arm. Joe felt as if he'd been hit with an electric charge. For one fleeting moment, the fear and terror he'd felt when he woke up during the night returned in spades. He looked at Frank's retreating back as he disappeared down the hall. A chill raced down Joe's spine as he clearly heard a child's voice.

"_Where are you, Frank? When are you coming back for me?"_

Joe whipped his head around. Troubled blue eyes scanned the office but found nothing. "I gotta stop eating Chinese take-out right before bed."

Joe tossed the file on his desk and walked behind it, taking a seat. He rubbed his arms more for comfort than anything else, trying to shake off the feeling of… he wasn't sure exactly _what_ the feeling was but he knew he didn't like it at all. Nor that it seemed to have been caused by Frank.

Opening the file, Joe picked up the first sheet of paper and began to read, pretending to ignore the fact that his hands were shaking.


	11. Chapter 11

**Shared Sorrow**

**Chapter 11**

Fenton sat in the plush reception area just outside Marcus Andresson's private office, gazing out the window. He had called the owner of Myelin Manufacturing the previous afternoon and explained he was looking into Kevin's disappearance. Andresson seemed anxious to help and agreed to meet with him first thing in the morning.

Smothering a yawn, Fenton drummed his fingers on the back of the leather sofa, trying to shake the restlessness that had been plaguing him since he awoke. Yet he knew even if he was able to do that, it wouldn't erase the dream he'd had last night.

'_If only it was just a dream.'_

He hadn't thought about the incident in almost nineteen years. In fact he'd successfully blocked it from his memory, as if it had never happened. And while he still wasn't ready to admit it, Fenton Hardy knew very well why he'd conveniently forgotten the episode; it would put his wife on a par with his brother-in-law – or vice versa – and that was simply not acceptable. Yet his subconscious remembered it very well…

_Fenton sat next to Sergeant Ezra Collig poring over the evidence the Bayport Police Department had recovered. It wasn't much to go on, which was why the victim's family had hired Fenton. He'd solved several cases since moving to Bayport and was just starting to make a name for himself as a private investigator. Still this was the first time he was officially working with the local police._

_The two men had been working in silence when a knock on the door interrupted them. A young officer poked her head in and nodded at Fenton. "Your wife is on line two."_

"_Thank you," Fenton said, puzzled. Laura rarely called him while he was working._

_Picking up the phone, he pressed the button Collig indicated. "Laura? Honey, is everything okay?"_

"_Oh my God, Fenton! He's gone!" Laura Hardy practically screamed into the phone, causing Fenton's blood to turn to ice._

"_Calm down, honey. Who's gone?" he responded, soothingly. Laura sounded on the verge of hysterics._

"_Joe! He's gone! My baby is gone!"_

'_Joe's gone?!' Fenton was on his feet instantly. Joe was only three years old! How could he be gone?_

"_Laura, honey, you have to calm down and tell me what happened." Fenton tried to mask the fear in his voice, not wanting his wife to feed off it. "Take a deep breath and tell me what happened." He heard a very shaky, sobbing breath as Laura tried to do as he asked._

"_I'm at the mall. Grace Cohen called this morning and said Phil wanted Frank to go to the park with them. So I dropped him off there on my way. I thought with just Joe I could get some errands done. He was in the stroller. Fenton, I don't know how he got out! I don't know if he climbed out on his own or if someone took him!" As Laura spoke, her voice pitched higher and higher, her breathing increasing with each word. "I only took my eyes off him for a second, but when I turned around Joe was gone!"_

Fenton closed his eyes and leaned his head back. As it turned out, there had been no sinister plot to kidnap their younger son that day at the mall. Prior to Joe's disappearance, Laura had given in to his endless requests to be allowed to get out of his stroller and explore the fountain in the middle of the mall. Sipping on the coffee she'd purchased, Laura indulged her little boy keeping a close watch on him as he repeatedly attempted to launch himself _into_ the fountain, rather than simply enjoy it from afar.

When Laura had put Joe back in the stroller, he'd seemed agreeable but kept twisting this way and that, trying to get one last glimpse of the water splashing from the fountain into the shimmering, shallow pool below. A few moments later, when Laura was digging through her purse to pay for a purchase, Joe had somehow gotten himself out of the stroller and made a beeline for the fountain. And that was exactly where mall security had found him only moments after Laura's panicked phone call. Sitting in the middle of the small, concrete pool, Joe was squealing with delight as the water from the fountain cascaded around him. Splashing and giggling, Joe was apparently having the time of his life completely oblivious to Laura's near breakdown.

While Fenton smiled at the memory of arriving at the mall to find a very wet and happy Joe snuggled deep in his mother's arms, in the back of his mind he knew exactly why he had purposely suppressed it all these years.

"_I only took my eyes off him for a second, but when I turned around Joe was gone!"_

With Joe simply having wandered off in search of adventure that day, it had been easy to forgive his wife her brief lapse of attention. Yet three years later, when his brother-in-law uttered those very same words…

'_No!'_ Fenton firmly reprimanded himself. _'That was different. Joe was hurt as a result of Jeff's incompetence. It is NOT the same thing! Not at all!'_

"Mr. Hardy? Mr. Andresson will see you now."

The voice of Marcus Andresson's secretary rescued Fenton from opening the door to his own inner Devil's advocate. But as he stood and followed the woman down the hall, a little voice resonated somewhere in the recesses of his mind.

'_Hypocrite…'_

oooOOOooo

Fenton sat back and rubbed his eyes, tired and frustrated. After speaking with Marcus Andresson he'd been given full access to Kevin's work area. He'd also been given ample time to question Kevin's co-workers and his supervisor. Every one of them had painted pretty much the same picture – Kevin was a hard worker, reliable, never any trouble; but he kept to himself. Other than company functions like the annual picnic and holiday party, he rarely socialized with anyone from the office. He kept his personal and professional lives separate.

Quickly realizing Kevin's fellow employees wouldn't be much help, he turned his attention to the project Kevin was working on when he disappeared. While Kevin's supervisor, Gregory Bastian, had said the project was _"routine stuff"_, Fenton still scrutinized every detail. He spent the remainder of the day poring over reports, financial projections broken down into one, five and ten year increments, graphs, charts and slide presentations. Everything appeared totally above board.

A search of the files on Kevin's computer, in his desk and small filing cabinet yielded the same results. Fenton found nothing that even remotely aroused his suspicion. With a dejected sigh he shut down the computer and returned to Greg Bastion's office, waiting patiently while Bastion finished a business call. After hanging up, he looked at Fenton hopefully.

"Did you find anything helpful?"

"I'm afraid not. Although I guess that's not necessarily bad news for you," Fenton replied.

"As distressed as we are about Kevin's disappearance, I have to admit I'm glad it doesn't seem to be connected to us," Bastion admitted. "Will you be coming back tomorrow?"

"I see no reason to at this point. Although if something turns up down the road…"

"You're more than welcome to return. As Mr. Andresson said, we are anxious to help in any way we can."

"Thank you, I appreciate that." Fenton reached forward and shook hands with Bastion, bidding him a good night.

Returning to his rental car, Fenton pulled out his cell phone and dialed Sam Radley. "Hi, Sam, it's me."

"You don't sound too happy," Sam said.

"I didn't find a thing at Kevin's office. How are the background checks going on the upper management at Myelin?" He heard a beep and the rat-a-tat-tat sound of fingers rapidly flying over a keyboard.

"Marcus Andresson, CEO. Inherited the business from his father, who inherited it from _his_ father. He still runs it as they did - a tight-knit group of employees who are treated like family." Sam repeated the information Fenton had already gleaned from the company website. "He's got the usual CEO type salary and bonus package. Owns two vacation homes in addition to the main residence.

"Vincent Ellison, CFO. He's an old high-school buddy and frat brother of Andresson's. They went their separate ways after college but when the computer industry boomed, Andresson wooed his friend away from the firm where he was working. He gets a generous salary and lots of perks in his compensation package. Since he's basically in charge of the company's finances, he makes money every time the company does. Has a house on a several acres of land on the outskirts of town and a vacation cabin near the desert about two hours north of there.

"Gabriel Brandenburg is the chief operating officer. Another old friend of Andresson's. Has pretty much the same background as the other two right down to the vacation home, except he started working at Myelin right out of college. Sorry, Fenton, but they all seem to be your basic, run of the mill corporate types. No skeletons in their closets."

Fenton drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, frustrated. "Okay, thanks for checking, Sam. I'm going to start searching Kevin's house tomorrow. Maybe something'll turn up there."

After getting caught up on the other open cases the agency was working on, Fenton hung up and drove back to his hotel, wanting nothing more than a good meal and a good night's sleep – preferably a dreamless sleep.

oooOOOooo

Joe walked into Frank's office and dropped heavily into a chair, frowning. "You seen Mom today?"

"She was leaving when I got here this morning. She had to take those annual recertification classes for the Red Cross today. Why?" Frank replied.

"I haven't talked to her since yesterday morning. When I left last night she was on the phone with Aunt Gertrude so all I got was a wave goodbye. I just wanted to know how she's doing with… everything." Joe sat back and drummed his fingers on the arm of the chair.

Frank chewed on his bottom lip, wondering exactly how to respond. Joe was staring at him in that unnerving way he had, almost daring Frank to blink. It usually worked like a charm, getting Frank to spill his guts when he'd had no intention of uttering a word. Tonight, however, he stared right back, using the time to decide exactly how much of what happened the previous evening he should tell Joe, and just how much detail he should go into.

Joe leaned forward and spread his hands impatiently. "Well?"

"I talked to her last night," Frank replied noncommittally.

"And?"

Frank exhaled loudly and tossed the pen he was holding on the desk. The previous morning, he'd promised Fenton he would keep an eye on Joe, make sure he was handling this whole bizarre situation okay without backsliding. He'd promised himself a long time ago never to lie to his brother or keep things from him. So what was he supposed to do now, when those promises seemed to be colliding head on? Which one did he keep and which did he break?

'_He's all grown up now,'_ Frank reminded himself. _'Doesn't need you trying to protect him from every little thing. Doesn't want you to either.'_

"I wanted to say goodbye to Mom before I left last night. Wanted to make sure she was okay so I went looking for her. I found her in the attic." Frank leaned back in the chair and stared at the glossy, polished desktop.

"What the heck was she doing in the attic?"

"Packing boxes. Or rather unpacking boxes, looking through them and repacking them."

Joe frowned. "Ya lost me."

"Pictures, photo albums, scrapbooks…every memory she had of her sister. She was looking at them one last time before getting rid of them for good," Frank said solemnly.

Joe's mouth fell open slightly as the significance of what Frank was saying sank in. He looked at Frank, confused. "I didn't even know those boxes existed."

"Me neither. And that was the idea. After Dad rescued you from Tilghman, you saw a child psychiatrist – apparently for several weeks." Frank spoke haltingly, not really sure how he wanted to explain this. Joe's predilection for taking blame for things he had no control over was in the front of his mind. He did not want this conversation to end with Joe feeling he was personally responsible for the severed relationship between Laura and her sister.

"Yeah, I know. They told me. But I don't really remember it."

Frank raised his eyebrows, slightly surprised. He'd assumed that once the buried memories pushed their way to the surface, Joe had remembered everything from that time. _'Guess not_.' He shifted uneasily suddenly not wanting to have this discussion.

"So what does that have to do with the boxes Mom had hidden in the attic?"

"The psychiatrist told them you didn't remember a thing about the kidnapping. Absolutely nothing. Totally repressed it because you weren't ready to deal with it. Mom wanted to know what would happen if something you saw or heard triggered the memories before you were ready to deal with them." Frank picked up the pen again, rolling it nervously in his fingers. "The psychiatrist said she didn't know for sure – but it wouldn't be good. You needed to remember it in your own time, when you were ready."

"Trust me, you're never ready to remember something like that." Joe started bouncing his leg, ever so slightly, a sure sign he was anxious. "Can you fast forward and cut to the chase here?"

"Mom was afraid being around the Cutters – seeing them, playing with Kevin and Kelly – would trigger something and you'd remember too soon."

"_Never_ remembering woulda been good for me," Joe mumbled. "Sorry," he said when Frank looked at him sharply, "go ahead."

"Mom said she knew her relationship with her sister would never be the same after what happened and your sanity was more important to her than trying to salvage something with Carole. Mom told Carole she was cutting her out of her life – Carole and her family. About a month later they moved to Arizona." Frank watched his brother warily as Joe absorbed everything. It was a long, tense silence before Joe spoke again.

"Okay, but that still doesn't explain why Mom wants to throw out those boxes _now_. I remembered what happened. What difference would it make if I saw anything that was in them?"

Frank shook his head, so not wanting to do this. He felt trapped. Joe had legitimate questions and he deserved answers. Frank had asked basically same thing of his mother only twenty-four hours earlier. Choosing his words carefully, Frank wanted to respond in a way that wouldn't leave Joe feeling guilty.

Standing, he walked around the desk and sat in the chair next to Joe's. He scooted it over a few inches, making sure he was in close proximity to his brother. "I think it's more about Mom than you, Joe," Frank began softly. "I get the feeling she's thought about contacting her sister more than once in the past year. She's adamant that she'll never do it though. She thinks it would be like saying that just because you remembered, everything was okay now."

Frank watched and waited for Joe's response. Not sure what to expect, he was caught off guard by Joe's question.

"Were they close? I mean before all this happened?"

"Uh… yeah. Both Mom and Dad said they were close."

"_Really_ close? I mean…like us?"

"Kind of," Frank hedged, recalling the way Fenton had described the relationship between his wife and her sister.

Joe's brow creased in concentration and he slowly shook his head. "If they were that close, throwing out all those memories… I don't know, it just seems wrong. Yeah, they haven't spoken in almost twenty years, but Mom doesn't know what might happen in the next twenty years. What if her feelings change? What if she decides she _does_ want her sister back someday? This is so permanent. Once those things are gone, she'll never be able to get them back." Joe looked at Frank with an intensity that went straight to Frank's heart. He knew Joe was thinking the same things he had the night before, considering all the what if's and impossible choices that were too distressing to even contemplate. Frank stared at his brother and saw the plea in his eyes. _'Don't ever let this happen to us!'_

"I know," Frank replied simply.

"You think she'll ever talk to her sister again?"

Frank shrugged, genuinely unable to answer.

"Did she really throw the boxes out?"

Frank hesitated for a moment and then replied. "I told her I'd take care of it for her."

Joe eyed Frank with suspicion and raised one eyebrow, questioningly.

"They're in my garage."

Joe gave him the hint of a smile. "Good thinkin', bro."

They sat for another moment, in comfortable silence before Joe stood, stretched and looked down on his brother. "Isn't it about time for you to be running home to your better half?" he grinned. "The little woman, the old ball and chain…" Joe's voice drifted back over his shoulder as he turned and walked out of Frank's office.

Frank ignored the comments, grabbing his briefcase and following Joe out the door. "So what's on the wedding planning agenda for tonight?" he shot back, laughing out loud when Joe groaned in despair.


	12. Chapter 12

**Shared Sorrow**

**Chapter 12**

Laura had no idea how long she sat at the kitchen table, staring at the wall. Fenton had been edgy and vague when she'd spoken to him the night before. Even taking into consideration the extenuating circumstances of this case, it was still too out of character for him and it made her uncomfortable. Tonight she had forced the issue, not giving up until he told her what was bothering him so much. His unusual behavior now made a lot more sense.

Laura shook her head, still in shock at the details Fenton had shared with her; Jeff's alcoholism and a DUI charge had led to his losing his job; the Cutters had to declare bankruptcy and lost their home. Carole succumbed to severe depression and developed an addiction to Valium. At one point, Kevin had been their only means of support, working a full time, forty-hour a week job while he was still in high school.

Laura swallowed nervously, feeling a twinge of guilt. Were all of the Cutters' problems due to the guilt they felt over Joe's kidnapping? Did Laura and Fenton's refusal to even acknowledge their existence play a part in it? How hard would it have been to let them know Joe hadn't remembered a thing and was living a perfectly normal childhood?

She had voiced these thoughts to her husband, whose response surprised her. Both his choice of words and the way he spoke made her wonder if he was starting to second-guess their actions, too. He had been adamant that Jeff and Carole played a major role in Joe's kidnapping and that he and Laura had every right to react the way they did. They were only trying to protect their child from further harm.

Still, Laura noticed that for the first time ever, Fenton hadn't laid blame for the entire incident at Jeff and Carole's feet. Up until tonight, Fenton had always insisted they were completely responsible for Joe's abduction. Yet this evening he'd suddenly decided they had only _"played a part"_ in it.

Standing, Laura walked to the sink and gazed out the window. It was dark now but she'd swear she could see her two sons as small boys, laughing and playing on their swing set or climbing the tree house Fenton had built for them. She had spent hours and hours looking out this window, watching them playing, laughing, crying and growing up to become the young men she was so proud of today.

Her smile faded as the uneasiness swept over her again. Her sons had as perfect a childhood as possible yet she never shared that one simple fact with her sister. What if she had? A phone call, a letter, even a simple postcard would have sufficed. How many times had Carole tried to contact her over the years? Fenton always told her when Carole called; she'd even called his office a few times, after Laura had forbidden her to ever call the house again. Deep inside Laura knew Fenton harbored much more hatred for Jeff over what had happened. Jeff admitted he'd been watching the kids when Joe was abducted, while Carole was cleaning up the picnic lunch they'd brought. But even if Fenton hadn't felt that way, he never would have stood in the way of Laura continuing a relationship with her sister if that's what she chose to do.

'_But I didn't.'_ While Laura still wasn't convinced she was one hundred percent wrong in her actions, she was starting to have some doubts about the ferocity with which she pursued them.

Turning off the lights, she walked to the keypad for the alarm system and made sure it was activated. She smiled, fondly recalling Fenton's final admonishment before ending their conversation – _"Don't forget to turn on the alarm before you go to bed."_ Frank had said something eerily similar when he called earlier that evening. Climbing the stairs, she wondered would the Cutters be as happy and close-knit as her own family if she'd accepted just one of her sisters' phone calls?

oooOOOooo

Joe's eyes shot open and he inhaled sharply, automatically looking at the clock on the bedside table.

'_Two a.m.?'_

He wondered what had awakened him so abruptly. He held his breath for a few seconds trying to calm himself to no avail. His heart was racing, pounding in his chest. He was trembling and shaking so hard he was afraid it might wake Vanessa. What had he dreamt about?

Joe concentrated for a moment, trying to remember. Something flashed in his mind, vague and elusive. Wisps of a dream began floating back to him. Were they memories or just something his active imagination had created as he slept? As he tried to grab onto the hazy bits and pieces, Joe was overwhelmed by emotions so raw, so intense he almost felt lightheaded.

Quickly, Joe pushed the fuzzy images back into his subconscious, but it was too late. Turning onto his side, Joe curled into a ball. He felt alone, afraid… _forgotten_. The feelings were paralyzing; so absolute, so devastating it almost reduced him to tears. The more he tried to push them away, the stronger they became. Joe stared out into the darkness, afraid to close his eyes again. Going back to sleep might be an open invitation for whatever he dreamt about to return in force. Awake, he felt as if he were being suffocated by the swirling emotions created by something he couldn't even recall.

And somewhere deep in his subconscious, the hazy bits and pieces of memory began to regroup. Joe couldn't ignore them forever. They would wait until the appropriate time to make themselves known, but it would be soon… very soon.

…

When Joe awoke five hours later, after falling back into a surprisingly peaceful sleep, the disturbing emotions were gone. He'd shared a leisurely breakfast with Vanessa before the two parted ways en route to work. After the conversation he'd had with Frank the previous evening, Joe was determined to see his mother this morning, wanting to satisfy himself that she was all right.

"Hey, Mom." Joe strode into his parents' kitchen, kissed his mother, who was seated at the table, and continued on to the counter, pouring himself a cup of coffee. Returning to the table, Joe pulled out a chair next to Laura and sat down. "Everything okay?" He took a sip of coffee. "You look tired."

Not only did she look tired, her eyes were slightly puffy and a little red. She had cried at some point during the night. But when she looked at him, Joe knew he wouldn't be getting a reason why. Whatever it was that had brought Laura to tears, she wasn't going to burden him with it. Not that it was all that hard to figure out. He hadn't been privy to any details of exactly what was going on, but Joe knew this whole bizarre situation with the Cutters couldn't be easy on his mother. Especially now that he knew how close she and her sister had once been.

"I'm fine." Laura lied, just as Joe knew she would. She gave him a forced smile. "How's Vanessa?"

"She's perfect," Joe smiled, his eyes lighting up at the thought of his fiancée.

"And how about you? I missed our little chat yesterday morning." Unless one of them was out of town, she and Joe spent a few minutes each morning talking over coffee. It was a ritual they'd started when Joe officially began working with Fenton and Frank, and was one they both looked forward to.

"Me too," Joe agreed and then frowned, looking at his mother intently. "And to be honest, I'm not doing so hot."

Laura leaned forward, concerned. "What's wrong, honey?"

Joe sighed heavily and replied with one word. "Blue."

"Blue?" Laura repeated, bewildered.

"Yeah, blue. Here I've lived my whole life thinking blue was just, you know, blue. Now I find out blue really _isn't_ blue. Blue can be blue, but in the great wedding planning universe, it can be a lot of other things besides blue! It can be navy, or azure, or cobalt, or sapphire, or indigo or cerulean. _CERULEAN_! What the heck is cerulean?! I've never even _heard_ of cerulean! Exactly what shade of blue _is_ cerulean? Ya can't even pronounce it let alone spell it. I'm not sure I want something that I can't spell to be a part of my wedding!"

By the time Joe concluded his tirade on the color blue a minute or so later, Laura was laughing hysterically. Joe sipped his coffee and smiled to himself. _'Mission accomplished!'_

oooOOOooo

Frank heard Joe's voice floating down the hall to Sam's office, where he and Sam were waiting for the younger Hardy. He was apparently regaling Mrs. Gresham with an update on the wedding plans. As the older woman's laughter echoed down the hall, Joe's voice trailed off and seconds later he appeared in the doorway, smiling at Sam.

"Hey. Mrs. G said you wanted to-" Joe stopped mid-sentence. He looked at Frank, the color draining from his face.

"You okay?" Frank asked, bewildered. Joe didn't respond verbally, but the look in his eyes did. "Joe?" Still getting no reply, Frank exchanged a confused look with Sam. Joe was staring at him unnervingly. Worried, Frank reached out to touch Joe's arm.

Joe flinched and pulled back, trying to put some distance between himself and Frank. It was a few seconds before Joe seemed to realize what he'd done. Backing away from Frank, he quickly sat down and turned towards Sam. "What's on the agenda for today?" He was clearly avoiding any eye contact with Frank.

Sam appeared puzzled but tried to ignore Joe's strange behavior.

"Well, as Mrs. G so astutely reminded me this morning, it's the end of the month. She needs this stuff done today," he pointed contemptuously at a stack of manila folders on his desk, "so she can complete the month end reports for your Dad.

"There's also what promises to be a pretty boring surveillance job for the workers comp case. He's been pretty slick so far; no one has seen him doing anything he shouldn't be. If he does anything even remotely requiring physical exertion we need to get it on video. It's the only way the company can disprove his claim." Sam grinned as he looked at Joe. "Since I know how much you love being stuck behind a desk doing paperwork all day, you and Frank can do the surveillance."

Joe's eyes widened for a split second. "I'll stay here and do the paperwork!"

Sam threw a confused look at Frank. "Joe, it's okay. I was only teasing. I really don't mind."

"I said I'll do the paperwork! I _want_ to stay here. I... I want to keep an eye on Mom." Standing, Joe grabbed the files off Sam's desk. "You guys take the surveillance job," he called over his shoulder as he ran out of the office.

Frank and Sam look at each other, shocked. Joe never even acknowledged Frank. It took a moment for Frank to recover from Joe's bizarre behavior. He looked at Sam, genuinely confused. "What the heck was _that_ all about?"


	13. Chapter 13

**Shared Sorrow**

**Chapter 14**

Joe practically ran to his own office, slammed the door shut and locked it behind him. Leaning against the door, Joe stood there for a moment, shaking and gasping for air, scared of the intensity of his reaction. He walked across the room, tossed the files on his desk and sat down, focusing on the framed picture of Vanessa he kept there. Joe took a few deep breaths and tried to calm himself with little success. He felt like he was about to break down and he didn't even know why! All he knew was it had something to do with Frank. When he saw Frank, the suffocating feelings came back stronger than before; the longer he was in Frank's presence, the worse they got.

'_What the hell is going on?'_

Joe tried to push the frightening thoughts and emotions to the back of his mind and focus on work. He turned on his computer and stared blankly at the screen waiting for the programs to load. Picking up a file he saw his hands shaking badly. Why? Why did Frank's presence trigger such a strong, negative reaction?

For the next thirty minutes Joe tried to work on the reports Mrs. Gresham needed. At one point he heard Frank's voice out in the hall and prayed his brother wouldn't try to find out what was wrong. He felt a brief moment of relief when he heard the door to Frank's office close and, a moment later, the sound of Sam's car start up and pull away.

Breathing a sigh of relief, he opened another folder, pulled the papers out and spread them on his desk. Staring at the notations, the words all seemed to run together in a blur.

"Damn," Joe muttered hopelessly. No matter how hard he tried, he could not concentrate on the job in front of him.

Sitting back in the chair, Joe didn't know what to do. Normally he'd turn to Frank for help, but for reasons unknown to him, Frank seemed to be the cause of whatever was upsetting him. Inexplicably, his eyes were drawn to the phone. While he no longer had regularly scheduled appointments with his therapist, Linda, he still saw her when he felt it would benefit him.

Slowly he reached out and picked up the phone surprised at how that one small act seemed to calm him slightly. Feeling a little more sure of himself, Joe dialed Linda's office number. _'Okay, I'll talk to Linda about this. She'll figure out what's wrong and fix it. No problem. Everything'll be fine…'_

After four rings a female voice answered. Joe's heart sank when he realized it was the answering service.

"Hi, is Linda in today?" Joe asked hopefully, surprised to hear his voice shaking. _'Please, please, please… she has to be there!'_

"I'm sorry, she's out of town for the day. She left the number of a colleague who is covering for her in case of emergency. Would you like that number?"

Joe didn't realize how long he'd sat, dazed by the reply he did not want to hear, until she spoke again. "Sir? I have that number right here if you need it." The woman sounded more concerned now.

"No, no thank you," Joe said quietly. "It's not an emergency." It had taken a long time for Joe to trust Linda enough to open up to her. He wasn't sure he'd be able to explain this to her, let alone a complete stranger. He couldn't even explain it to himself.

Hanging up the phone, Joe shifted his attention back to the paperwork in front of him, unable to shake the disturbing feelings that continued to bubble just below the surface.

oooOOOooo

Sam sat behind the wheel of his sedan, eyes flicking between the house across the street and Frank, who was seated next to him, obviously brooding about Joe. He was preoccupied, distracted; his mind was not on the job they were there to do. Every few minutes he'd shift position, the abrupt movement sometimes accompanied by a frown or a soft sigh. His eyes continually wandered away from the house.

Trying to ignore Frank's increasing restlessness, Sam focused on the door of the house. While it wasn't outwardly apparent, he and Frank had a close relationship. It had begun innocently when Frank was small. He would often stay overnight with Sam and his wife when Fenton was called out of town. Sam had spent all his free time with Frank during those visits, and they had gradually formed a special friendship. As he grew, Frank confided in Sam more and more.

Sam knew Frank's frustration would eventually reach the boiling point and he would need a release. He was confident that Frank would share those frustrations with him. Sam, himself, was wondering about Joe and what might be bothering him, when Frank's voice startled him.

"He was fine last night!" Frank suddenly blurted out, causing Sam to jump slightly. "Teasing me about running home to the little woman..." his voice trailed off for a moment. "I don't get it, Sam. What happened between last night and this morning?" Frank asked, obviously perplexed.

"It _was_ pretty odd," Sam agreed, having no explanation for Joe's strange behavior.

"He acted like he couldn't get away from me fast enough," Frank said, dejected.

"Was anything bothering him last night?"

"If it was he didn't mention it. He was a little worried about Mom but we talked about it. He was acting like himself when he left. And I didn't talk to him again until this morning, not that you could call it an actual conversation," he snorted derisively.

Sam was about to respond, when the door of the house opened. Instantly Frank's full attention was focused on the house. A man in his mid-thirties walked slowly out the door, down the steps and shuffled towards the driveway. His walk appeared stiff and almost painful. It took almost two minutes for him to reach the old car.

"If he's not hurt, he's a great actor." Frank winced as the man moved in a very deliberate manner while getting into the car.

"Mm-hmm," Sam agreed, starting the car. "Which would explain why he hasn't been caught yet." He waited until their suspect had pulled out and was turning right at the end of the block before he pulled away from the curb.

For the next several hours, Frank and Sam tailed the man as he completed a number of mundane errands – a stop at the bank, the drug store, the doctor's office. The man's stiff, shuffling gait never once changed, leading Frank to wonder aloud if they were on a wild goose chase. By early afternoon, they had followed the man back home where he parked in front of the house and walked slowly inside.

Frank turned to Sam. "Well? Think he's done for the day?"

"Actually I was thinking, why did he park on the street in front of the house instead of in the driveway," Sam replied curiously. He had driven past the house and circled the block, coming to a stop across the street and down the block from the man's house. "The driveway is closer to the front door. You'd think he'd be pretty uncomfortable with all those errands he just did. Why walk any further than absolutely necessary?"

Frank nodded in agreement and settled in to wait once again. Approximately forty-five minutes later, the garage door suddenly opened. "Heads up," Frank murmured, sitting up a little straighter. A black SUV, with tinted windows backed out of the garage, down the driveway and into the street. "Is it him?" Frank asked, unable to get a look at the driver.

"Don't know but my gut says yes." As he did that morning, Sam waited until the vehicle had turned out of sight before beginning his pursuit. "He deliberately parked in the street when he came back," he picked up the thread of conversation again. "His wife works downtown and doesn't get off until six. Didn't look like there was anyone else home. If he wanted to get out and do things he knows he shouldn't be doing, without arousing suspicion, he just made the perfect escape."

"Almost perfect," Frank corrected, with a smile.

…

Three hours later, Sam and Frank had more than enough evidence to prove the man's injury claim was a sham. They had followed him to a secluded lake about an hour out of town where many local families had weekend cabins. After finding a discreet parking spot, the two had hiked through the surrounding woods to the lake where their suspect apparently owned a cabin. Hidden among the trees, Frank and Sam's patience was finally rewarded when the man, apparently thinking his disappearing act had worked, let his guard down.

He spent the afternoon doing odd jobs around the cabin in preparation for re-opening it in the spring – all of which should have been physically impossible if his injury claim were true. Armed with ample video footage of the man's afternoon tasks, Sam and Frank headed back to Bayport.

Once out of the heavily wooded area, Frank pulled out his cell phone and called the office. After letting Mrs. Gresham know the results of their surveillance so she could contact the client, he asked to speak with Joe.

Sam frowned, listening to Frank's half of the conversation.

"He did? When?" There was a few seconds of silence as Frank listened to her reply. "Oh? Did he say where he was going?" More silence.

"How did he seem to you, Mrs. G?" Frank listened again, then sighed. "Maybe." Frank replied to whatever she'd said, although he didn't sound convinced. "Thanks. We'll see you tomorrow."

Frank ended the call and stared out the window for a moment. "Joe finished the reports and left. Said he was going home," Frank continued as he dialed another number.

Sam watched out of the corner of his eye as Frank listened and frowned. Rolling his eyes, Frank disconnected that call and dialed yet again. This time he sighed heavily before speaking. "It's me, Joe. Mrs. G said you went home a while ago but I just tried there and no one answered. We got the evidence we needed to wrap up the workers comp case." Frank fell silent for a few seconds. "Call me, huh?" he said softly. Folding up the phone, he put it back in his pocket and stared out the window glumly.

"Why is he avoiding me, Sam?"


	14. Chapter 14

Thank you to max, shejams, kimuthy, erinjordan, swifters and whashaza for the reviews and thanks to all who are reading.

**Shared Sorrow**

**Chapter 14**

Fenton used the key Jeff had given him, to unlock the door to Kevin's house. The small ranch house stood on a quiet, tree-lined street in a suburb of Phoenix. At first, he'd found it odd that a twenty-five year old bachelor would want to live in a neighborhood of families with children ranging in age from newborns to teens. What could he possibly have in common with them? From what Jeff had told him, Kevin and his girlfriend Gina hadn't been dating all that long and weren't even close to talking marriage or raising a family. But after thinking about it for a while, Fenton wondered if Kevin wasn't trying to recapture something he felt he'd missed out on in his own childhood.

Shaking his head sadly at such a depressing thought, Fenton stepped through the front door where he stopped and studied the layout of the house. To his left was a small living room with a fireplace at the far end and a large picture window looking out onto the porch. He glanced to his right at the small hallway presumably leading to the bedrooms and then walked in the opposite direction.

Stopping in front of the fireplace, he looked at the few pictures displayed on the mantel. One was of Kevin and a woman Fenton assumed to be Gina. He picked it up for a closer look at the couple. Kevin was a handsome young man with light brown hair and hazel eyes. Gina seemed almost exotic with her dark hair, almost black in color, olive complexion and deep brown eyes. His eyes were drawn back to Kevin. There was something about his nephew, something in his eyes that bothered Fenton.

Frustrated, he replaced that picture and picked up the one next to it – a family photo of Jeff, Carole, Kelly and Kevin. And that was when he realized what was bothering him. While the entire Cutter family was smiling for the camera, the looks in their eyes and on their faces told a different story entirely. Jeff's face was etched with years of guilt; Carole's eyes reflected misery and sadness; Kelly, even while smiling, appeared to be a bitter, angry young woman and Kevin… Kevin looked defeated. As if he'd been carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders and couldn't bear the burden another second.

Gently Fenton returned the picture to the mantel and almost without thinking reached for his wallet. Flipping it open, he gazed down at the pictures he always carried with him. The first was of him, Laura, Frank and Joe. It had been taken at Bayport's annual River Fest a few years earlier. He stood with his arm around Laura's waist. Next to her was Joe, with one arm around his mother and the other hanging loosely over Frank's shoulder. They were all smiling with the picture accurately capturing how much they enjoyed being together as a family.

Turning the little plastic page, he smiled at the two pictures that meant so much to him. He'd always hoped his sons would find love – true love – the kind he shared with Laura. The faces staring back at him from the pictures told him those hopes had become reality.

The first was of Frank and Callie, taken on their wedding day. Glowing was the word that always came to mind when he looked at this picture of his son and daughter-in-law. His eyes shifted to the photo next to it, and his smile grew. It was an impromptu shot Laura had taken the night Joe and Vanessa came by to announce they were engaged. He could honestly say he'd never before seen Joe as happy as he was that night. And Vanessa… he stared at the young woman who had turned his son's life around.

"Thank you," he whispered.

Swallowing the lump in his throat, he closed the wallet and put it back in his pocket. Looking up, his eyes fell, once more, on the picture of the Cutter family and he realized despite all the horrors _his_ family had endured in the past year, they were truly blessed.

Turning to his right, Fenton walked through the arched doorway into the dining room/kitchen. Sliding glass doors opened out onto a deck that overlooked a well-kept backyard. Walking through the kitchen, Fenton found himself at the opposite end of the hallway he'd seen a moment earlier from the living room. Directly in front of him was the master bedroom; next to it was a bathroom and on the other side of the bathroom stood another bedroom that had been turned into an office. Knowing he had a long day ahead of him, Fenton walked into the bedroom to begin his search, hoping it would be more fruitful than the search of Kevin's office the previous day.

oooOOOooo

Kelly Cutter stared at her parents, still fuming. They had told her several days ago that they were going to hire Fenton Hardy to find Kevin, so she should have gotten used to the idea but it still left a bitter taste in her mouth. She looked away with a scowl, the hatred burning inside her. He was the reason her life had been turned upside down! Him and his brainless son! She didn't know all the details but had long ago decided she didn't need to. She knew that Joe Hardy had been stupid enough to let himself be kidnapped and his father had the nerve to blame her parents for it!

Angrily, she chewed on a hangnail, inadvertently ripping it off, and cursed when it started to bleed. Ever since Fenton and Laura Hardy had forced her family to leave Bayport nothing had gone right and this was just one more thing to add to the list.

Standing up, she stalked across the kitchen and yanked open the drawer where her mother kept a small first aid kit. She pulled it out and slammed the drawer shut, muttering to herself all the while.

"What did you say, Kelly?" her father asked. He was seated at the counter, next to her mother, both of them wearing matching looks of guilt and sadness.

"I said I don't understand why you had to go all the way across the country to hire a private investigator. Aren't there any investigators between here and the Atlantic?" she said sarcastically. Applying some ointment and a band-aid to her finger, she returned the first aid kit to the drawer, slamming it again just for good measure.

"He's the best there is," Jeff defended their decision. "And he's your uncle."

Kelly rolled her eyes. "Oh, please. I barely remember the man. And I have no desire to get to know him after the way he blamed you and Mom for what happened to his stupid son. My God, he was a cop's kid! He should've known better than to talk to strangers!" she ranted bitterly. "And if he is related to us, he should be doing this free of charge!" Her anger grew at the thought of her parents turning over their meager savings to pay for Fenton Hardy's services. If he was the best at what he did, he should be pretty well off already. '_And if he didn't make us move away from Bayport, none of this would even be happening!'_

"You're rewriting history again, Kelly," Jeff replied wearily. "Joe didn't talk to anyone. He was kidnapped."

Kelly snorted in disgust but remained silent. She and her father'd had this discussion ad nauseum over the years and it always infuriated her the way he stuck up for Joe. Turning her back on Jeff, she stared at the wall listening as her mother began to speak, haltingly at first as if she wasn't sure she really wanted to say what was on her mind.

"You saw Laura, too, while you were there," Carole repeated what her husband had told them the previous night. "Did… did she say anything about... " She stopped abruptly and Kelly could hear her inhale deeply, something she did when she was afraid or nervous. "Did she ask about me at all?" Carole blurted out.

Kelly felt a wave of repugnance at the hopeful note in her mother's voice. Laura Hardy hadn't acknowledged her existence since the day they moved away. Why did she think that would change now?

Kelly glanced over her shoulder just in time to see Jeff turn away and look out the window. The long silence that followed effectively answered the question.

"Bitch," Kelly muttered under her breath.

"KELLY ANN CUTTER! Don't you ever speak about my sister like that!" her mother reprimanded.

"She's _not_ your sister anymore," Kelly spat out turning to face her parents again. "At least _she_ doesn't think so!"

"She'll always be my sister," Carole replied, emotionally. Kelly simply rolled her eyes, the gesture unnoticed by her mother who had returned her attention to Jeff.

"Did you see Joe at all?"

"Who cares if-" Kelly began before being silenced by a look from her father. She watched as he reached out and took her mother's hands in his and held them tightly. Thankfully, Joe's name hadn't come up in discussion the night before, but it looked like she was about to hear all about her hated cousin now.

"I didn't see him, no. A lot of pictures of him, though. Laura's got the whole living room decked out with pictures of the boys." He smiled for a moment, but it quickly disappeared as he began to relate what Fenton had told him about Joe.

As Kelly watched her parents discussing Joe with such concern and compassion, she felt her anger and hatred for him grow immeasurably. She couldn't believe what she was hearing! All her life she'd been led to believe he was a basket case as a result of the kidnapping. At least that's the impression her parents had given her. If he wasn't, why were they so consumed with guilt – to the point they neglected their own two children? And now to find out he'd lived a perfectly normal, happy childhood while hers was all but destroyed? And it was all because of _him_! Unable to stand and listen to anymore, Kelly snatched her purse off the counter

"Oh, please spare me," she snarled at her father. "From the sounds of it, I'd trade places with him in a heartbeat! So he was kidnapped when he was six. He needs to get over it already!" Turning on her heel, Kelly stalked out the back door, slamming it behind her.

…

Carole jumped as Kelly slammed the door so hard the wall shook. She looked at her husband, shocked. Were they responsible for her attitude towards Joe? Towards the entire Hardy family? Feeling overwhelmed by the thought, she pushed it away, focusing on her husband. She was relieved to hear Joe had never remembered a thing about the kidnapping, or what had happened during the time he'd been held by the child porn ring, but she could tell from the look in her husband's eyes that he hadn't revealed everything yet. Steeling herself, Carole asked him to continue.

She listened in utter disbelief as Jeff told her about Joe's fiancée being raped, his subsequent arrest for murdering the man who'd done it, his complete breakdown during the trial and admittance to a psychiatric hospital…

'_Oh my, God…'_ Carole thought, pale and trembling. _'It's worse than either of us ever thought!'_

Standing, Carole walked zombie-like into her bedroom. She picked up the picture nestled on the back corner of her dresser and stared at it, longing to go back in time. The photo of the Cutter and Hardy families had been taken almost twenty years earlier. It was fading and ragged around the edges. Carole stared at it for a long time. Her eyes roamed the faces, stopping on the smiling face of her younger sister.

'_Oh, Laurie… no wonder you hate me…'_

oooOOOooo

Joe lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. He could hear Vanessa, beside him, breathing softly; she'd fallen asleep hours ago. He wanted to fall asleep too, and put this miserable day behind him, but his mind was spinning with thoughts and emotions and showed no signs of slowing down anytime soon. He thought back over the evening and mentally kicked himself.

Vanessa had known something was wrong the second she got home from work. She could read him like a book and Joe always considered that a blessing and a curse. Today he'd felt cursed. He knew she was only trying to help but he was edgy and tense, knowing something was definitely wrong but unable to figure out what. When Vanessa realized he wasn't going to talk about it with her, she had innocently suggested he call Frank and that's when he snapped.

He'd apologized almost immediately, explaining he wanted to talk to Frank but just couldn't quite figure out where to begin. It wasn't really a lie; if he didn't know what the problem was how was he supposed to know how to explain it? She had forgiven him, as she always did, but Joe could feel her eyes on him the rest of the night, watching warily, knowing he wasn't being completely honest.

Rolling over, he wrapped his arms around Vanessa and gently pulled her close to him, careful not to awaken her. She sighed softly in her sleep and snuggled closer to him, making him feel a little less anxious. He smiled at the way she could calm his nerves even without knowing it. Despite the comfort and security he now felt, Joe knew sleep was still a ways off. He kept hearing Frank's voice echoing in his head…

"_Call me, huh?"_

And he wanted to – desperately – but something stopped him. Something he'd pushed below the surface, out of sight, out of mind, out of cognizant thought, but still always there, lurking, waiting for just the right time.

Joe had become all too familiar with this feeling over the past year and he hated it. It always started with the dreams; dreams he couldn't recall but that always left him with a feeling of terror when he awoke. Until the final dream, when everything would come barreling back to the surface. Holding Vanessa a little tighter, Joe finally felt his eyes grow heavy. As he drifted off to sleep, somehow he knew his subconscious had decided it was the right time. Tonight was the night…

oooOOOooo

_The little boy huddled on the floor, cowering in the corner. Moments earlier he'd heard people yelling and shouting. The men who had grabbed him had been yelling at him off and on ever since they took him from the park and it scared him. Still he preferred their yelling to what happened when the other man came for him. He tried to be brave, but his small body could only take so much abuse. He hurt everywhere and he felt his eyes start to burn as he remembered what he had to do to avoid the beatings. _

_Another shout caused him to jump. He heard the sounds of pounding feet on the stairs. Pulling his knees in close to him, he tried to make himself even smaller. The running footsteps were getting closer and it sounded like there was more than one person. Wiping the tears from his eyes, he hoped with all his heart that one of those people was his brother. He'd been waiting and waiting, but with every hour that passed, he felt alone and forgotten, his hope slipping away. _

'_He promised. He'll come for me, I know he will.' The little boy had been trying to console himself since he'd been whisked away from the park. Keeping his eyes tightly closed, he pictured his brother in his mind. He tried to remember how it felt when his brother made that promise._

"_I'll always come back for you."_

_The shouting got louder and the little boy jumped in fear, recognizing one of the voices as the man who had beaten him several times since he'd arrived in this awful place. He whimpered and squeezed his shut even tighter, wishing and praying for his brother. 'Please don't leave me here alone!'_

_Suddenly the door burst open, startling the child. The man who beat him ran into the room, looking around wildly. His eyes lit on the small boy and he lunged forward._

_The boy pressed himself into the corner and cried out for his brother. "Frank!"_

_The man grabbed his shirt and dragged him a few feet, lifting him off the floor. Suddenly the man let go and he fell to the floor, hard. He scrambled back to the safety of the dark corner, terrified. The room was flooded with people, yelling and running in all directions. At first the little boy feared he'd be forced to do things with the men scurrying about the room; the same awful things he'd had to watch the other children do. _

_Huddled in the corner, shaking and shivering with fear, he noticed something – all the men were dressed alike. They were wearing uniforms. Sort of like the uniform his daddy used to wear before they moved. His blue eyes grew huge as it dawned on him – the police! The men who had run into the room and were now holding down the man who had beaten him were police officers!_

'_Frank brought them!' he thought with a rush of relief. 'He didn't forget me! He came back, just like he promised!' His brother hadn't let him down._

_Anxiously, the boy watched the door anticipating his brother's arrival. Just when he thought he couldn't wait another second, his father ran through the door. The man looked around the room frantically. Finally he saw the little boy, still hovering in the corner. In seconds the man was by his side, scooping the small boy up in his arms._

"_Joey! Oh, God, Joey!"_

_The little boy snuggled into his father's arms, all the while peering over his shoulder and watching the door, not wanting to miss his brother's arrival. He heard his father sniffling, his head buried in the boy's neck. Minutes passed and with them so did the little boy's hope. Tears stung his eyes; his brother wasn't coming…_

_Clutching his father's jacket with both hands, the little boy buried his face in his father's chest. Too heartbroken to cry, the boy simply whimpered, alone, afraid, forgotten and betrayed…_

'_Frank… you never came.'_

Joe woke suddenly to what felt like a crushing weight in his chest. Long buried memories surrounded him and his biggest fear became a reality. For the past year, he had been afraid that he hadn't remembered everything from that horrible weekend. Now he knew he was right. The betrayal had been heartbreaking to him as a six-year-old boy. Tonight, it was devastating. Rolling onto his side, Joe curled into a ball. He felt as if he were back in that room, pressing himself into the corner, praying for Frank to arrive and rescue him from the monsters just like he promised he would.

Joe bit his lip, the reality just as devastating now as it was then. The memory he never wanted to remember grabbed him and refused to let go. Alone, afraid, forgotten…


	15. Chapter 15

**Shared Sorrow**

**Chapter 15**

Joe sat on the couch slowly swirling the mug of coffee in his hand. He stared at the pale brown liquid, mesmerized by the whirlpool the motion of the cup created. But the temporary distraction couldn't stop the memories the nightmare had brought to the surface. _'Frank… you never came…'_

Abruptly, he stood up, sloshing some of the hot liquid onto his hand. "Damn." Hurrying into the kitchen, Joe turned on the faucet and let the cool water run over his hand.

'_This is insane. It's crazy.' _Joe thought. _'How can I possibly be upset with Frank for breaking a promise he made when he was seven? A promise it was impossible for him to keep?'_

"I am so sick of this," he muttered, shaking the water off his hand and reaching for a towel. "When is it gonna end?"

"What did you say?"

Joe whirled around, surprised, and saw Vanessa staring at him.

"Joe?"

She stepped closer, and Joe knew he would have to give her some kind of explanation. After the dream had jarred him awake during the night, Joe had been so overwhelmed by the feelings that resurfaced he'd awakened Vanessa. Thankfully, she asked no questions. Seeing how upset he was, she simply put her arms around him, held him tightly and whispered soothing words of comfort until he calmed down enough to go back to sleep. He shrugged and shook his head. "I guess I just thought that after a year I'd be over everything, ya know?"

Vanessa reached out and touched his cheek, smiling sadly. "Yeah, as a matter of fact I _do_ know."

Joe stared at her, losing himself in the blue-grey eyes. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close. Vanessa nestled herself against his chest. Turning his head, Joe rested his cheek on her hair, reveling in the softness of it. He would have given anything for Vanessa _not_ to understand how he felt, yet at the same time he found immeasurable comfort in the fact that she did, with no explanation required.

"It's been two days now." Vanessa's voice was muffled against his chest. She moved her head slightly, but stayed close to him. "You can't go on like this, Joe. You have to talk to someone. Today."

"I know. I left a message with Linda's answering service this morning. Told them I really needed to see her today." Somehow he sounded both relieved and anxious at the same time.

Vanessa pulled back a little, looked up at him and smiled. "Good. Just make sure you call me later, okay?"

"Okay." Joe leaned down and gave her a lingering kiss goodbye. "Have a good day."

"You too." She squeezed his hand tightly. "See you tonight."

After Vanessa left, Joe called the office and told Mrs. Gresham he had an appointment and wouldn't be coming in today. He then restlessly wandered around the apartment, waiting for a call back from his therapist. Almost an hour later, the call came. He spoke with Linda for a few minutes, who told him she had juggled some other appointments so she could see him that afternoon. Hanging up the phone, Joe knew he couldn't sit around all day, just waiting; he'd drive himself crazy. Grabbing his gym bag from the front closet he headed for the door, hoping to work off the anxiety that was starting to suffocate him.

oooOOOooo

Frank stepped into the office, struck by the silence. Mrs. Gresham wasn't at her usual spot in the reception area. Stopping for a moment, he listened and heard the faint sound of voices coming from the hall to his left. _'She must be in with Sam.'_ He turned right, making his way to his own office.

Turning on the lights, he absently noted that Joe wasn't in yet, but wasn't too surprised. It was a rare occasion that Joe made it in to work before he did. Frank laid his briefcase down on the desk and opened it, taking out the paperwork he needed to complete the final report on the workers comp case he and Sam had wrapped up the day before. He turned on his computer and while it was loading the various programs, went to get himself a cup of coffee from the small kitchen area.

Returning to his office, he shut his briefcase and put it in its customary place on the floor behind his desk. Turning towards the computer, he saw the little pink phone message carefully placed in the center of the desk. He picked up the note from Mrs. Gresham, read it and frowned. Apparently Joe had called earlier and told her he wouldn't be in today.

Frank reached for the phone. Something was going on with his brother and he was determined to find out what it was. He dialed both Joe's home and cell phones and as he had the previous day, got nothing but Joe's prerecorded message. Frustrated, he hung up, slamming the phone a little harder than necessary.

Drumming his fingers on the arm of the chair he debated whether or not to call Vanessa. On the one hand, he didn't want to ask her to betray a confidence if Joe had indeed confided in her. Then again, he was tired of being ignored by his brother for no good reason – at least not one that he could see. But it was the bottom line that convinced him; he was just plain worried about Joe.

He picked up the phone and dialed Vanessa's work number. After being put through to her office and exchanging the requisite good mornings, he got right to the point.

"Van, do you know what's up with Joe?"

"No." He could hear the frustration in her voice. "I know something's bothering him. I tried to talk to him about it last night."

"He wouldn't talk to you either, huh?"

"Uh-uh. And when I suggested he talk to you about it, he bit my head off."

"Really?" Frank asked, surprised. All of Joe's family and friends had been the victim of his short fuse and quick temper at one time or another – all except Vanessa.

"He apologized immediately. Said he wanted to talk to you but didn't know exactly what was bothering him." Vanessa sounded unconvinced about Joe's reasoning, and sounded even more worried as she continued. "He had a dream last night. Wouldn't tell me what it was about, but it was a bad one. I think it has something to do with Tilghman, though."

"Did he say that?" Frank sat up anxiously, wondering if Jeff Cutter's sudden reappearance had sparked this whole thing.

"Not in so many words. But he alluded to the fact that he thought he'd be 'over everything' after a year," Vanessa replied sadly. "And he said he was going to see Linda today. It's been a while since he felt there was something so bad he had to go see her."

Frank heard the concern in her voice and automatically tried to reassure her. "If he's going to see Linda, that's a good thing, Van. She can help him work out whatever's bothering him."

"I know but sometimes after he sees her he gets so…" she stopped, letting an uncomfortable silence hang between them.

"Depressed," Frank finished for her. "I know. But it's better he get everything out, even if it hurts in the short term."

Vanessa sighed. "Yeah, logically I know you're right, but I just hate to see him like that. I told him to call me later."

"Well, when you hear from him, will you give me a call? Between last night and this morning, I've left five messages for him between and he's ignored every one of them." Frank tried not to sound defeated.

"I will. Bye."

"Bye, Van."

oooOOOooo

Linda watched as Joe Hardy paced the length of her office, nervous and agitated. He was frustrated that he couldn't pinpoint exactly what was bothering him, other than it had to do with his brother and a recurring dream. Sensing Joe _did_ know what the problem was and simply wasn't ready to acknowledge it, she encouraged him to just jump in and start talking, assuring him they'd figure it out together.

He'd told her about the dream, which was really a recollection of the day his father had rescued him from the child porn ring that had abducted him. She noticed immediately that he kept returning to the fact that Frank hadn't been there to join in the rescue. Then abruptly he dropped the subject of the dream and backtracked a few years to an incident that Linda sensed was the key to everything.

"I had my tonsils out when I was four. Frank wanted to stay with me in the hospital but he wasn't allowed. So he gave me Bear." Joe stopped and reddened. He shrugged, embarrassed. "Bear… he's a stuffed bear."

Linda smiled and nodded encouragingly.

Joe's voice grew softer and his eyes took on a fond, faraway look. "He said Bear would protect me since he wasn't there to do it himself. He said Bear would always protect me when he wasn't around."

Linda wasn't sure if this stuffed bear still existed, but if it did, she knew it was a cherished and treasured possession.

Joe stopped speaking and frowned. Linda recognized the look – Joe was putting all the pieces together and didn't like the answer he was getting. He walked to the window and stared out, shifting his weight restlessly from one foot to the other.

"I asked him what would happen if he wasn't around and I didn't have Bear with me. What would happen if the monsters came and I was alone? He said he'd always come back for me. _Always_. He promised." Joe stopped for a moment, struggling with some long ago memory. When he spoke again, he'd jumped ahead several years, returning to the day he'd been rescued, but Linda had already figured out where this whole thing was headed.

"I waited and waited for him to come and get me." Joe's voice caught in his throat. "But he didn't. He never came." Joe turned and stared at her; betrayal filled his eyes. "He left me there. Alone. He never came."

"And you're still angry about it; you've never forgiven him for that," Linda pointed out. "That's where all these feelings are coming from."

Joe stared at her, open-mouthed, for a few seconds, then shook his head violently. "That 's nuts! I am _not_ mad at Frank! I don't blame him for anything! You're wrong; so, so wrong. There's something else. There's gotta be something else." He was practically begging.

"I'm sorry Joe, but I don't think there is. You're remembering the feelings and emotions of a terrified six-year-old boy. A little boy who thought the sun rose and set on his older brother. A boy who trusted his brother implicitly to protect him from all the bad things in the world. And he didn't do that."

"He couldn't!" Joe shouted angrily. "He was just a kid himself! No one in their right mind would have expected him to be able to help me!"

"A little brother who worshipped him would have."

"This is crazy!" Joe paced the room like a tiger about to pounce.

"To us, as adults, yes it is. But to you, as a frightened child who always turned to his brother for protection, it makes perfect sense."

"But I'm not a frightened child anymore. I'm an adult." Joe stopped in front of her, his eyes pleading for an explanation. Something he could understand and fix. "So why do I still feel like that _now_?"

As Joe stared at her helplessly, Linda mentally reviewed their prior sessions, focusing on any of them in which Frank's name had come up. She recalled one session in particular when Joe had become extremely distraught. It was shortly after he began seeing her and they had begun to discuss Frank's betrayal, when he'd believed Joe committed murder. Joe had been devastated at the accusation and worse, felt as if he'd never be able to trust his brother again. Her eyes widened slightly as she made the connection.

"Joe, you once told me about a conversation you had with your brother, almost a year ago. Right after your fiancée was kidnapped," Linda began, trying to jog his memory.

"We've had a lot of conversations. Which one are you talking about?"

"The one where he asked you if you still trusted him." She waited to gauge his reaction before continuing.

Joe took a deep breath and exhaled nervously. "Yeah, I remember. He wanted to know if I trusted him, the way I used to. I didn't… I couldn't answer him. It was too soon."

"Didn't you tell me Frank said he'd never mention it again? That the next time the two of you discussed it, it would be because you brought it up?"

Joe swallowed hard and nodded.

"Did you ever have that talk?"

Joe chewed on his lip for a few seconds. "I told you I gave him that ID bracelet for his birthday. Frank knows I trust him."

"But did you _talk_ to him? Did you _tell_ him you trust him, the way you used to?" Linda pressed. She could tell by Joe's response, or lack of it, that he'd never brought it up again. And whether he realized it or not, that was weighing heavily on him. "Joe?"

Abruptly he turned away, looking back out the window and avoiding Linda's gaze. "No," he said quietly. "We never talked about it again."

"Maybe it's time you did. And maybe it's time you forgave him for not coming back for you all those years ago."

Joe spun around, his eyes wide with disbelief. "What does that have to do with what happened last year? What does that have to do with _any_ of this?"

"It has everything to do with what you're feeling now. He broke a promise to you-"

"He was just a kid!"

"So were you. And that perceived betrayal was devastating to you. Even more so than what happened last year, which is why you've never remembered it." Linda spoke calmly, trying to make Joe understand she wasn't attacking Frank.

"So why is it all coming back now?" Joe demanded.

"I'm not sure. Something must have triggered it. Something that reminded you of that weekend." She saw a flash of recognition on Joe's face, and then just as quickly it was gone. Whatever it was, he had no intention of talking about it. "You need to talk to Frank about this. Tell him you understand why he couldn't keep that promise. If you don't it'll just continue to get worse and worse."

"You honestly want me to go see Frank and tell him I forgive him for not saving me from Tilghman when he was seven years old?" he cried out, incredulous. "Yeah, sure, no problem." Joe threw the words at her flippantly. "No. Uh-uh. No way." He shook his head adamantly and returned to his spot in front of the window. "He'll think I really have lost it this time. He'll personally escort me back to the Campbell Center."

Linda watched him silently. The connection between the delayed reaction Joe was only now feeling and the fact that he could never bring himself to talk to Frank about the shattered trust between them was clear to her. Now all she had to do was convince Joe. _'Easier said than done.' _She frowned. She'd learned early on that Joe could be incredibly stubborn when he'd already made up his mind about something, or when he was too scared to face what the reality might be. "Joe, you have to talk to him about this," she said patiently.

"I know that," Joe retorted sarcastically. "I'd just rather not sound like a babbling idiot when I do." He whirled around again, agitated. "I can't go to him and tell him that I'm magnanimously forgiving him for not coming to my rescue seventeen years ago and oh, by the way, that's why I've never been able to say 'I trust you' out loud. He'll think I'm certifiable."

Linda realized the direct approach wasn't working. Joe obviously understood what she was saying but for some reason wasn't willing to relate his feelings to his brother.

'_His brother whom he still looks up to, still wants to make proud.' _Suddenly it all clicked. Joe didn't want to look like a fool in front of the brother whose opinion meant so much to him.

"You know," Linda began, "I've never met your brother, but from what you've told me, it sounds like he cares about you. Very, very much."

"He does," Joe agreed, the hint of a smile on his face.

"You're obviously very close. You've been able to talk to him about things you didn't even feel comfortable telling me. Things he's been able to help you with."

Joe nodded and shrugged, apparently a little embarrassed at admitting there were things he didn't feel he could confide in her.

"In fact, you've been pretty close your whole lives, haven't you?"

"Mm-hmm."

"And he's always respected your thoughts? Your feelings? Never made light of them, no matter how strange they may have seemed to you at the time?"

Joe shook his head. "Never."

She leaned forward slightly, staring at Joe, making sure she had his full attention. "So what makes you think he'll start now?"

After a long silence, Joe replied with one word. "Me."

Linda sat back, honestly confused. "Excuse me?"

"I get it, okay? I understand what you're saying. But what if I can't explain it in a way that he gets it? What if it doesn't make sense to him? What if I totally screw up and he thinks I'm saying I'll never forgive him? Or I'll never trust him like that again?" Joe threw out his fears, already sounding defeated. "I have a tendency to go off in ten different directions, ya know."

Linda smiled wryly. "Yes, I know. And I'm sure your brother is used to that by now. But you usually manage to get your point across eventually."

"But what if I can't this time? What if-"

Linda held up a hand bringing a quick halt to all of Joe's 'what ifs'. They could go around and around, playing 'what if' forever and in the end it was just Joe's way of stalling, trying to put off the inevitable as long as he could.

"What if you give Frank a little more credit. Joe, your brother is intelligent, he's understanding and most of all he loves you." She stood up, indicating their session was over, knowing it would force Joe to do what he was trying so hard to avoid.

"But-"

"Joe, you're stalling," Linda said firmly. "You now know what the problem is and you know what you need to do to fix it. Isn't that what you came here to figure out?" She smiled at him encouragingly. "Go talk to your brother. He'll 'get it'."

Joe stood and sighed. He cast one last doubtful glance at her, and then left. Returning to her desk, Linda shook her head and sat down. Making a few notations in Joe's chart, she wondered why he always seemed to make things so much harder for himself than they needed to be.


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N:** I wrote this story many years ago, long before greedy bankers and Wall Street CEO's destroyed the U.S. economy and flushed the average worker's retirement fund down the toilet. So when you get to the appropriate part of this chapter dealing with retirement funds, put on your rose-colored glasses and pretend that someone who has been religiously depositing part of their pay into a retirement fund for the past twenty-plus years would actually have a significant amount to show for it. :-/

**Shared Sorrow**

**Chapter 16**

Fenton settled in at the desk in the small bedroom Kevin had converted into an office. He'd spent the previous day and all morning searching the rest of the house without finding anything to tell him what might have happened to Kevin. This was his last hope of finding _something_ and that was frustrating him no end. He usually had something to work with by the third day of a case, but he was no closer to finding Kevin now than he was the night Jeff Cutter had shown up on his doorstep. He was starting to think maybe Kevin really did just up and leave.

Starting with the drawers, Fenton searched each one, scrutinizing every shred of paper he found. He was thankful Kevin was so neat, making his job a little bit easier. Every folder was clearly labeled and they were all hung alphabetically. Each paper inside the folders was carefully placed in the proper place, giving order to what could easily have turned into chaos; it appeared Kevin kept just about everything.

Finding nothing of interest in the desk drawers or on the desk itself, Fenton moved on to the collection of CDs and DVDs housed in a bookcase next to the desk, noting that Kevin burned a lot of his own CDs. Each one was meticulously labeled, arranged in alphabetical order by artist and always on the same brand of CD.

'_Just like Frank.'_ Fenton chuckled, imagining the comments that would be flying out of Joe's mouth if he were there.

Glancing at the CD in his hand he wondered how Joe was doing, as he hadn't spoken to him the previous evening. He put the CD back in the slot and moved on to the next one, when his hand froze on the plastic square. He felt a tiny fluctuation on his internal radar. There was something about the previous CD. He pulled it out and looked at it again, checking the label.

'_The Criminals.' _He found the band's choice of names somewhat amusing. _'Never heard of them.' _

Staring at the label, he noticed that it had been stuck on haphazardly, not perfectly centered as all the others had been. Looking at the inside cover, he saw no song tracks listed and his radar spiked a little higher. He looked at the brand of CD and then pulled out one of the others and noted they were different. Immediately, he thought about the time Joe had called home from the mall to see if anyone needed anything before he left. Frank had asked him to bring home some blank CDs, being sure to tell him exactly which brand he wanted. When Joe arrived home having purchased a cheaper brand that was on sale, Frank spent several minutes lecturing him about quality being more important than price. Frank had returned the CDs the next day and gotten his preferred, more expensive brand. By all accounts, it appeared Kevin was just as compulsive as Frank about that kind of thing, so why the different brand of CD with the sloppy label and lack of song tracks?

'_Something isn't right here.'_

Returning to the desk, Fenton sat down and booted up the computer. He inserted the CD, fully expecting to hear music come floating out of the speakers. He was shocked when a spreadsheet with numerous individual pages appeared on the screen. He flipped through the pages realizing he'd seen something similar before on Kevin's computer at work.

Kevin had checked the performance of his own retirement fund on the employee page of the company website shortly before he disappeared. Fenton peered at the screen again and realized he was looking at the monthly accounting of the employees' retirement fund - a listing of the deposits and current balances in each employee's retirement fund.

Checking the numbers closely, Fenton frowned; they seemed awfully low. Many of the employees had worked at the company their entire lives, and Myelin matched the employees' contributions dollar for dollar. It seemed to him that the older employees should have a substantial amount in their accounts by now.

Logging on to the Internet, Fenton pulled up the Myelin Manufacturing website and hacked into the employee benefits page, then the retirement fund section. He started randomly pulling employee names and social security numbers and comparing the amounts on the website page to the amounts on the spreadsheet Kevin had. The numbers on the spreadsheet were considerably lower than those on the website.

Fenton sat back and drummed his fingers on the desk as he stared at the screen, coming to what seemed to be the only logical conclusion. Kevin _did_ disappear voluntarily – after skimming a substantial amount of money from the employee pension fund!

oooOOOooo

Frank tapped the pen incessantly against the desk as he stared at his cell phone. _'Ring, damn it!'_ It was mid-afternoon and he should have heard from Vanessa by now. He threw the pen at the phone and then glared at it for good measure. Seconds later, it rang, startling him. Frank reached for the phone.

"Hello?"

"Frank?"

"Joe! Hi," Frank said, a little surprised to finally hear from Joe.

"Can you meet me at the park?" Joe requested abruptly. "At the jungle gym?"

'_The jungle gym?'_ Frank's heart fluttered. Only the most serious of subjects were discussed at the place that held such happy and carefree memories for the brothers. "Sure. Of course. I'll be there in a few minutes."

"Okay… good," Joe sounded distracted and very nervous. "See you in a few."

And then he was gone. Frank stared at the phone for a few seconds before hanging up. Grabbing his coat, he raced through the office, giving Mrs. Gresham a hasty goodbye and running out the door.

oooOOOooo

Frank pulled into the nearly empty parking lot, coming to a stop next to his brother's car. Getting out he scanned the park, his eyes coming to rest on the lone figure perched on the jungle gym. Shoving his hands in his pockets, Frank strode across the open field watching Joe carefully. Seated at the very top of the metal structure, Joe gazed out at the grassy area in front of him, completely still except for one foot tapping a constant rhythm against one of the bars. Reaching the jungle gym, Frank took a deep breath and began climbing upward.

"Hey. Thanks for coming," Joe said as Frank settled in beside him. "I know I've been a world class jerk the past few days."

Frank threw him a sidelong glance. "Don't be so hard on yourself." He waited a beat. "You've only been an average jerk." Hearing Joe chuckle softly, he relaxed a little bit. "How long have you been here?"

Joe shrugged. "Beats me. Kinda lost track of time. Couple hours, maybe."

"Why didn't you call me sooner? I would've come right over."

Joe was silent for a moment then exhaled loudly. "Guess I was trying to figure out how to explain everything without having you haul me back to the Campbell Center."

"Not funny." Frank snapped almost without realizing it. His heart constricted for a moment as the memories whirled in his head.

Joe flushed, wrinkled his nose and shrugged. Frank recognized his brother's version of an embarrassed apology for striking a raw nerve.

"Sorry," Frank mumbled. "I didn't mean to bite your head off. Just… don't joke about that, okay?"

Joe nodded, looking away as silence fell over them. Frank knew that no matter how long Joe had been there prior to his arrival, he still needed time to work up to whatever it as he wanted to talk about. It was part of the ritual – allowing the peace and innocence of their childhood to surround them in a protective cocoon.

In the meantime, Frank watched the few people still left in the park. A boy about fourteen pushing a little girl on a swing. _'His younger sister?' _ Two women jogging around the perimeter of the park; a man in his early thirties tossing a ball with a young boy; an older couple holding hands, slowly meandering behind a small, furry dog who seemed intent on sniffing every blade of grass in the park.

"I went to see Linda this afternoon," Joe suddenly announced.

Frank nodded, letting Joe know he was listening without interrupting. Whatever Joe had to say would initially come out in seemingly random, unrelated bits and pieces. He would listen to what Joe said and what he _didn't_ say, and fit the pieces together like jigsaw puzzle.

"I had this dream… I guess it was a dream. No, it was really a memory, but I dreamt it. I mean, it really happened, but I was dreaming about it. But it was real. Not something my imagination came up with…" When Joe momentarily stopped his rambling to take a breath, Frank jumped in. Whatever Joe had to tell him was apparently more difficult for him to talk about than he'd anticipated. He knew if he didn't interrupt, Joe would keep talking around and around about dreams and memories and never get to the point.

"Joe, what did you dream about?" Frank asked, trying to get his brother to focus.

Joe stared out over the park, a pained expression on his face. "I dreamt about the day Dad found me. The day he rescued me from Tilghman. I'd never… I didn't really remember it before. Not in any great detail anyway… 'til now." His voice trailed off and he looked away.

"I imagine that was pretty difficult. To just remember it out of the blue like that." Frank had a feeling that simply remembering that day wasn't what had Joe so worked up. There was something more to it.

"Yeah, it was." Joe sounded spooked and still wouldn't look at Frank.

Frank reached out and touched Joe's arm, shocked when his brother flinched and pulled away slightly.

"Careful." Frank grasped Joe's arm as he teetered unsteadily.

Joe stared at Frank's hand for a second and then looked up at him with haunted eyes. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry, Frank! I don't want to feel this way!" And without warning, it came pouring out – the dream, the memories, the feelings of betrayal and abandonment Joe had buried when Frank never came for him; buried them so deeply even a year of therapy couldn't unearth them.

"I guess when Dad told us about Uncle Jeff coming to him for help, it – it flipped a switch or something. I swear I didn't know what was going on until today. Whenever I was near you it felt like… like…" Joe was talking faster and faster, the words spilling out on top of each other so quickly Frank could barely process them. And Joe was getting more upset by the second. "It hurt… so bad… like you didn't care about me at all. And I know you do. I know it! And I kept hearing this voice in my head – a little boy. He kept saying _'Where are you? Why didn't you come back for me?'_ " This time Joe reached out and grabbed Frank's arm, almost as if he were afraid Frank would flee.

'_And leave him alone again.'_ Suddenly everything clicked. _'He thought I'd be there that day; that __**I'd**__ be the one to find him. And when I didn't…' _Frank sucked in a breath, realizing how devastating that had to be for Joe at the time; and for how frightening and confusing these past few days must have been for him - to suddenly feel such incredible anger and betrayal and have no idea why.

'_He was angry with me, and hurt, and he didn't know why. Poor kid, no wonder he's been acting so crazy.' _A dull ache in his forearm made Frank glance down. Joe was still clutching his arm. He reached out, placing his hand over Joe's and grasping it tightly. He looked Joe straight in the eye, hoping the gesture would reassure his younger brother that he wasn't going anywhere. The gesture seemed to calm Joe slightly.

"I know it's crazy to feel like this now," Joe continued. "And I really don't. I'm _not_ mad at you for not coming to find me. Well, part of me is. The part that's still six years old… or _thinks_ I'm still six years old. But the rest of me, the adult me, knows you were just a kid. There was nothing you could do." Joe sighed helplessly. "God, I sound certifiable."

Seeing Joe had talked himself out, at least temporarily, Frank gathered his thoughts knowing he needed to express them in a way that wouldn't end up making Joe feel worse than he already did. "You know, for a six year old kid who just had his whole world shattered – or someone who is just now remembering what it felt like to be that six year old kid – what you're feeling makes perfect sense.

"Joe, when I made that promise to always come back for you I _meant_ it, with all my heart. Believe me, if I'd been around when Tilghman's men grabbed you, there would have been no doubt in _my_ mind that I was going to be the one who found you. The bottom line is I made a promise to you and I broke it." Joe started to protest but Frank held up a hand stopping him. "It doesn't matter if it happened when you were six, sixteen or sixty. It hurts. Period." Frank leaned a little closer and put his free hand on Joe's back. "And I'm sorry."

Frank saw something flicker in Joe's eyes – pain, abandonment and betrayal – and then it was gone. Completely. Frank smiled to himself. As Joe had been talking, trying to explain his strange behavior, he'd become more and more upset. Joe seemed to think that by apologizing to Frank for feelings he had no control over, that would make everything okay. Yet Frank understood that apologizing wouldn't make Joe feel any better. But _getting_ an apology from the one person he'd felt had betrayed him all those years ago…

Frank could see Joe was fighting some very powerful emotions. He exhaled a long, shaky breath as if he were expelling the last of the demons that had haunted him from the nightmare weekend so long ago.

"Thanks," Joe said softly. He smiled before turning and looking off into the distance.

Frank studied his brother and frowned. He knew he was right about this. The look on Joe's face and in his eyes proved that. So why was Joe still out of sorts?

"Anything else you wanna talk about?" Frank offered. He needed some kind of hint as to what was still bothering Joe.

Joe didn't answer right away. Instead, he looked down at the ID bracelet peeking out from under the sleeve of Frank's jacket. Sensing it was at the center of whatever was bothering Joe, Frank pulled the sleeve up a little. Joe reached out and ran a finger over the shiny metal.

"You wear it a lot."

"I haven't taken it off since the day you gave it to me." Frank watched a smile flicker across his brother's face. They sat silently as Joe fingered the bracelet, staring at it a moment longer.

"I never brought it up again," Joe said quietly.

"The bracelet?" Frank asked, confused.

Joe shook his head. "That day at Mom and Dad's. Right after we got Van back from those guys who blackmailed Callie."

Frank shivered at the unexpected chill that ran through him at the memories.

"Remember?" Joe pressed.

"I remember that day," Frank replied guardedly, having no idea where this was going.

"You said the next time we talked about it, it'd be because I brought it up." Joe traced the inscription on the bracelet with his finger as if he were mesmerized by it. "I never brought it up again." He finally let go of the bracelet, looked up and stared into Frank's eyes. "We never had that talk."

It hit Frank all at once what Joe was referring to. "You gave me the bracelet, Joe. As far as I'm concerned that said it all."

Joe smiled gratefully. "That's what I thought, too. But Linda said if it's still bothering me this much, and I guess it is, then just giving you the bracelet wasn't enough."

Frank held his breath, suddenly no longer sure he wanted to have this conversation – _ever_. It had occurred to him once, quite a while ago that he and Joe hadn't really talked about the trust issue again, but as time wore on, he really didn't want to. It just didn't seem necessary anymore. Maybe he was being a coward but things were good between him and Joe again. Really good. And if Joe still wasn't able to trust him totally, completely and absolutely, the way he used to, well Frank didn't really want to know. But the way Joe was looking at him now, Frank knew he was about to find out for sure, whether he wanted to or not.

"You asked me something that day. Something I couldn't answer." Joe looked at him with an intensity that Frank couldn't ever remember seeing before. "You remember that?"

Frank swallowed hard, his mouth suddenly dry. Yes, he remembered what Joe was referring to, with painful clarity…

_"Joe…I have to know. Do you still trust me?"_

_"What? What kind of question is that?" Joe was getting a very bad feeling about what he knew was a potentially volatile issue._

_"A valid question, I think. Considering everything that's just happened." Frank replied quietly. "So…do you? Still trust me?"_

_"Of course I trust you!" Joe replied hastily, telling himself it was the truth. He did trust Frank…up to a point. Praying Frank would be satisfied, Joe hoped he would just drop the subject. But he had a strong feeling he knew exactly where this conversation was headed and he was not ready for it. Not yet. Almost three months later, the wounds were still much too fresh._

_"You trust me?" Frank pressed. "Totally? Completely? Like you did before?" He had seen Joe flinch and already knew the answer. Now he needed Joe to confirm it._

_Joe held his brother's gaze for a second longer, then quickly looked away. This hadn't come up since the night Joe had forgiven Frank and that was just fine with Joe. In the weeks that followed, Joe had been very afraid Frank would bring it up again, for it was a subject Joe had not been ready to discuss. In fact, he still wasn't ready to talk about it. Abruptly, Joe got up and walked to the window, staring out at the morning sky._

_"I know you'll always be there for me, Frank. Isn't that enough?" Joe asked quietly._

_Frank felt as if a knife had just been plunged into his heart. "But you don't trust me anymore. Not like you used to." Frank said it as a statement; it was no longer an unanswered question._

'_I can't do this,' Joe thought. The searing pain he'd kept repressed for the past several months was suddenly screaming to be acknowledged and dealt with. 'I'm not ready yet.'_

_"Please, Frank. I can't do this right now," Joe begged softly._

At the time, Frank needed the answer to that question more than he needed to breathe. But now… he'd accused Joe of murder. What if, after all this time Joe had come to the realization that was simply unforgivable? Was it too late to tell Joe this conversation was no longer necessary?

Frank could feel Joe's eyes on him and realized Joe was staring, waiting for some kind of response. He forced the words out. "Yeah, I remember."

"You wanted to know if I trusted you completely, totally, implicitly… like I used to."

Frank nodded once, unable to find the words to end this conversation. Joe was still staring, so serious, so subdued. And that's when Frank knew. The realization didn't hit him so much as it ran him over. Joe would never be able to forgive him, not completely; the absolute, implicit trust they'd shared had been shattered, destroyed beyond repair. _'I don't care if I'm a coward, I don't want to know. Not now – not ever.'_

"Joe, you don't have to-" Frank began, trying to stop the inevitable, but Joe cut him off, obviously needing to say it out loud.

"Yeah, I do have to. You asked a legitimate question and you deserved an answer. In fact I should've told you long before now."

Frank's heart pounded in his chest. He was afraid to move, afraid to blink, afraid to breathe.

"The answer is no," Joe said softly. "I don't trust you like that anymore."

Frank felt as if his soul had shattered. It was gone. The bond he'd fed and nurtured and cherished his entire life was gone. And now he knew for sure that he'd never get it back. Of course Joe couldn't forget. How could he? How would Frank feel if Joe thought, even for one second, that _he_ was capable of cold-blooded murder? Would he be able to forgive and forget? Trying to ignore the pain in his soul, Frank heard Joe's voice as a few of the words began to filter through the haze in his mind.

"…trust… never be the same … Rashman… the trial…"

"Wh-what?" Frank asked, not sure what he was hearing.

"I can't say that I trust you the way I used to. It'd be a lie." Joe ducked his head for a moment, almost shyly. When he looked up again, his eyes burned with a kind of hero worship Frank hadn't seen since they were very small. "This past year with Rashman, the trial, everything that happened… I never would've survived it all if you hadn't been there."

Frank stared, not sure if he was hearing what Joe was really saying or only hearing what he wanted to hear.

"You told me to trust you, and I did. You said you wouldn't let me down, and you didn't. Not once. Not ever." Joe looked down again, studying his hands intently. "I trust you more now than I ever have I my life." He looked up, making sure he had Frank's full attention. "_Ever_!" Joe shrugged, uncharacteristically shy once again and looked away. "So I hope that answers your question."

Frank's eyes began to burn as the full meaning of what Joe said washed over him. He swallowed hard, barely able to get the words out over the lump in his throat. Frank reached out and rested his hand on Joe's back. "Yeah," he said softly, his voice quavering slightly. "That answers it just fine."


	17. Chapter 17

Thank you to everyone for all the reviews! Constructive criticism and helpful suggestions are just as welcome as compliments. :-)

**Shared Sorrow**

**Chapter 17**

Fenton Hardy took a deep breath and knocked on the door of the small house. His practiced eye took in the peeling paint, cracked front walk and brown, dying grass. It felt as if the house were cloaked in a cloud of depression. The door was opened by a woman with dark blonde hair and blue eyes that, while not as vibrant as Laura's or startling and intense as Joe's, were still hauntingly familiar.

"Fenton!" Carole exclaimed. Quickly overcoming the shock at seeing him, she smiled tentatively and Fenton was reminded that Joe had definitely gotten his smile from Laura's side of the family.

"Hello, Carole."

"Please come in." She opened the door a little wider. "Jeff, Fenton is here!" she called over her shoulder and then immediately turned back to him. "Please have a seat."

Fenton sat down in the worn, threadbare chair Carole indicated as she sat on a mismatched sofa. He gazed about the room, noting the sparse furnishings, most of which looked as if they'd been picked up at yard sales or second hand stores. He recalled the large, beautifully furnished house in the well-to-do section of Bayport that the Cutters had owned. He'd been a little jealous the first time he saw it, and hoped Laura would be happy with the home they were barely able to afford on the corner of High and Elm streets. Glancing at Carole again, Fenton was surprised to feel a rush of sorrow drowning out the anger he'd expected upon seeing his sister-in-law again. She was only a few years older than Laura but it appeared that while time had been kind to his wife, it had taken a toll on Carole.

Jeff appeared a few seconds later, took a seat next to her and grasped her hand tightly. As he met Jeff's eyes, the bitterness Fenton always felt at the mere thought of him appeared for the briefest of seconds and was quickly replaced by… sadness? He frowned inwardly. He was used to anger and righteousness whenever he thought about the Cutters. Where were these new and disconcerting feelings coming from? Pushing them aside, he forced his attention back to the reason he was there.

"I found something in Kevin's house. A CD."

"A CD?" Carole repeated, puzzled. "He has hundreds of CD's."

"This one was different."

Taking a deep breath, he explained how he'd found the CD, what led him to take a closer look at it and what he discovered when he did. He told them of the drastic difference in the amounts on the CD and those on the Myelin website said. When he finished, Carole was staring at him blankly.

"I'm sorry, I don't understand what you're saying." Her brow was furrowed in confusion. "What does any of that have to do with Kevin's disappearance?"

Jeff replied before Fenton had a chance to, and he sounded utterly defeated. "He's saying Kevin stole the money from the employees pension fund - and _then_ disappeared."

Carole's eyes grew huge as she stared at Fenton and he almost flinched. He'd seen the exact same look in his wife's eyes a little over a year earlier, on the night he told her Joe had killed a man in cold blood. Just as he had then, he rushed forward with what little evidence he had, certain it proved his theory right. "Carole, I'm sorry but the evidence suggests Kevin embezzled over half a million dollars from the employee pension fund," he tried to explain.

"I don't care what your evidence suggests," she cut him off. "Kevin would never steal. Ever. Even when we were at our lowest point, when Kevin was going to school and working full time to put food on the table, he did NOT steal. He's the only one of us who is doing well, financially. If he didn't steal then, why would he start now?"

"I don't know. But there's been no sign of foul play, no ransom demands… nothing. It's the only logical conclusion," Fenton replied.

Carole held his gaze and this time he did shrink back ever so slightly. _'Déjà vu,' _he thought, watching the emotions play across her face – disbelief and then anger, quickly followed by absolute conviction. He could almost swear he was looking at his wife. Despite all the evidence against Joe, Laura hadn't believed for one second that he was guilty. And she had been right.

"My son is not a thief," Carole said emphatically. "I don't care how logical your conclusion is, or what kind of evidence you think you have. Kevin did not steal money from anyone."

Suddenly Laura's voice was ringing in his ears, as if she were right next to him.

"_I don't care what you saw. I know my son. He is not capable of murder under any circumstances. Joe is innocent."_

Laura had been steadfast in her conviction, in her belief in Joe. It didn't matter to her how many eyewitnesses there were; nor did it matter that her husband and elder son were among them. As Fenton stared back at his sister-in-law a thought blossomed and immediately it nagged at him – the evidence had been wrong before. Was it wrong again?

"We hired you to find our son," Carole's voice brought him back to the present. "Are you going to do that or not?"

"Yes, of course. I just wanted you to be prepared for what could happen when I _do_ find him," Fenton answered. "I'll have to inform the Phoenix police department and Myelin Manufacturing about what I've found. When Kevin returns, he may very well be facing criminal charges."

Carole stood and looked down on him. "My son is innocent. Just find him. Once he's home, we'll deal with the rest of it."

oooOOOooo

"I don't know, Sam." Fenton was once again seated at the small desk in his hotel room, eating a bland room service meal and wishing he were home sharing a leisurely dinner with his wife. Between bites, he was bringing Sam Radley up to date on what he'd discovered that day. "Why would he have that CD at his house if he wasn't involved in the theft?"

"If he did steal the money, why would he leave it there for anyone to find?" Sam countered. "Other than that disc, he's made a perfect getaway. Seems awfully sloppy."

"Maybe he had an accomplice. Someone who planted the disc there so when the theft was discovered suspicion would automatically fall on Kevin."

"That's possible," Sam agreed. "But there's one more scenario you need to consider."

"I know…" Fenton sighed. "Kevin accidentally stumbled onto the theft and was disposed of." He knew he had to consider the possibility, but so far he'd been avoiding it. He'd prefer Kevin were the thief; at least then he'd still be alive.

"I take it you didn't mention that to Jeff and Carole."

"No." He sat back and ran a hand through his hair in frustration. "The only thing I have to go on is that CD and it really doesn't prove anything. And no matter how I feel about them, about what happened with Joe, to tell them Kevin might have been murdered when it's nothing more than a theory if nothing else pans out…" Fenton stopped, confused again at the conflicting emotions he'd been feeling since talking with Jeff and Carole that afternoon.

"So what's your next move?"

"I'm going back to Myelin tomorrow and talk to Marcus Andresson again. Tell him what I've found. If I lay out all the possible scenarios to him, maybe he'll put off calling in the police until I can find out for sure whether or not Kevin was involved in the theft." He stopped for a moment, hesitating.

"What are you thinking?" Sam prodded.

"I'm not really sure. I've just got a gut feeling. Something's not right. There's only a little over five hundred thousand dollars missing. If Kevin was planning to run away and start a new life, I'd think he'd take a lot more than that.

"And that CD… It was obviously disguised to fit in with all the others, but it was so sloppy. Every other CD was meticulously labeled. If he didn't want anyone to find it, wouldn't he have made every effort to have it blend in completely with the others? To make it as inconspicuous as possible?"

"If he didn't want anyone to find it, he wouldn't have left it there to begin with," Sam said bluntly.

Fenton rubbed the back of his neck tiredly. He didn't like the snail's pace at which this case was progressing, or the feelings and emotions it was dredging up. What he really didn't like was the way he was starting to feel sorry for the Cutter family. He'd convinced himself that they'd been blissfully happy and content with life for the past eighteen years and he did not appreciate reality stepping in to tell him otherwise. Fenton was starting to regret taking the case and wished he'd referred Jeff to someone else or at least let Sam handle it.

"Do you want me to fly out there and take over?" Sam asked, as if he knew what his friend was thinking.

Fenton very briefly considered the offer, but knew he had to turn it down. "Thanks, but no. I agreed to find Kevin - and I will."

"Well, if you change your mind…"

"I'll let you know. So what's going on there?" he asked, wanting to be distracted. For the next several minutes, Fenton happily listened as Sam related the boring details of the now closed workers comp case.

oooOOOooo

Joe dropped another stack of files on the large desk in the conference room and flopped into a chair. "Ya know, I don't remember Dad telling us about this part of the job," he said disgustedly.

He and Frank were spending the day doing the necessary but mundane task of weeding through old files, deciding which could be boxed up for storage and which ones needed to be kept close at hand.

"You mean the mind-numbingly boring aspect of being a private investigator?" Frank grinned.

"If I wanted boring, I would've become an accountant," Joe grumbled, tossing another file into the box at his feet.

"An accountant?!" Frank exclaimed, laughing. "You can't even balance your checkbook!"

"I'll have you know my checkbook is balanced every month," Joe retorted haughtily.

Frank snorted. "Yeah, by Vanessa."

Joe grinned. "You're just jealous that you can't charm Callie into balancing your checkbook."

"I am perfectly capable of balancing my own checkbook without my wife's help. In fact I balance hers and mine."

"Geek," Joe muttered under his breath.

"Jock," Frank countered quickly.

"Nerd."

"Pretty boy."

"Dweeb."

"_Blonde!"_

"Einstein."

"Einstein?!" Frank looked up laughing. "How is Einstein an insult?"

Joe remained silent, excited blue eyes glued to his watch. Suddenly he jumped up, papers spilling on the floor as he pumped a fist in the air, dancing around the room triumphantly. "I win!" Joe cried out, gloating "I win, I win, I win!" He continued his celebration, poking a finger a Frank. "You didn't return the insult in the allotted amount of time – _I WIN_!"

Frank shook his head, grinning. He had started the little game in junior high school when he saw the labels a few unkind, or simply unthinking, people had placed upon him and Joe were really getting to his younger brother. After being told repeatedly that he was the jock while Frank was the smart one, Joe had started to believe it and began to doubt his own intelligence.

In an effort to impress upon Joe that the labels were just words and only had meaning if Joe let them, Frank had started the game of trading insults with Joe. One of them would start and the other had to come back with a matching insult in less than ten seconds or lose the game. Over the years, Joe was the one who usually started the game, but it was a rare occasion when he won, usually dissolving in laughter when Frank called him some obscure name he'd never even heard before.

Settling down, Joe gathered up the papers scattered about the floor and sat at the table, reaching for the half empty cup of coffee.

"Sleep okay last night?" Frank asked quietly, now staring at the file in his lap.

The simple question caught Joe off guard and caused him to stop with the coffee cup poised midway to his mouth. He knew the question wasn't as innocent as Frank made it sound. Frank was probing, in his own understated way, trying to make sure the conversation they'd had the day before had the desired result – ending the dreams that had plagued Joe the past few nights and burying the last of his fears for good.

Joe glanced at his brother and smiled. "Yeah, slept like a baby," he responded, taking a sip of coffee.

"Good," Frank nodded, never taking his eyes off the file.

Joe looked at his brother a moment longer, feeling very grateful. He _had_ slept well for the first time in days and this morning felt like his old self again. Returning his attention to the task at hand, he hoped Fenton would be able to solve the Cutter case in the next few days and return home. Then, Joe knew, he would feel that everything was comfortably back to normal.


	18. Chapter 18

Thank you JamesSmith, erinjordan and max for the reviews and thank you to all who are reading. :-)

**Shared Sorrow**

**Chapter 18**

Jeff Cutter sat in the parking lot and stared at the building in front of him. At the height – or depths – of his battle with alcoholism he had practically lived here. He'd been a fixture in this bar. It had been his sanctuary whenever the guilt and shame began to crush him. It was much easier to forget what had happened to his nephew because he hadn't been paying attention to the small boy. It was easier to convince himself that Kevin wasn't the family's sole support when he could drown the reality in a bottle of alcohol.

Sitting in the car, trying desperately not to give in to the overwhelming urge to have just one drink, Jeff wondered, as he had so many times before, how differently his life would have turned out had Joe not been kidnapped. Would he and Carole have stayed in Bayport? Would they have kept their close relationship with Fenton and Laura Hardy? If only he'd kept his eyes on Joe that day his kids would have had the happy, carefree childhood they deserved. Shaking his head in defeat, Jeff got out of the car and slowly walked into the bar…

oooOOOooo

Marcus Andresson stared at Fenton Hardy, a frown creasing his forehead. "Let me see if I understand what you're asking. You say you've found evidence that Kevin Cutter has embezzled a substantial amount of money from our employees' pension fund, but you don't want me to notify the authorities?"

"It's not quite that simple," Fenton said. "I found evidence that _someone_ has embezzled money from the pension fund. It may very well have been Kevin. It may be that he acted alone or he may have had an accomplice. There's also the possibility that Kevin had nothing at all to do with it and became a victim of whomever orchestrated the theft." He leaned forward slightly. "All I'm asking for is a little time to find out exactly who stole the money before you contact the police."

Andresson sat back in his chair and rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

"If you notify the authorities now and it isn't Kevin, you'd be accusing an innocent man," Fenton pointed out. "And even if he's cleared, it would follow him the rest of his life. Everyone remembers the accusations; no one remembers when they are recanted."

Andresson sighed and finally nodded in agreement. "You're right. I suppose it won't hurt to wait a few more days." He hesitated a moment. "Do you know how much money was stolen?"

"It looks like a little over five hundred thousand dollars."

"Well, if you can't recover the money, I'll replace it myself. I won't have employees who've been loyal to my family their whole lives have to worry that they won't have enough to live on once they retire, because of one bad employee." Andresson stood up and escorted Fenton to the door. "You have access to anything you need within the company. If anyone seems resistant to the idea of helping you, please contact my secretary immediately."

Fenton returned to Kevin's desk and booted up his computer, not looking forward to what he was sure would be a long and tedious day. Again he began to review the project Kevin had been working on, but conflicting memories repeatedly derailed his train of thought. Joe had disappeared while in Laura's care, yet Fenton never once blamed her for it. In fact, he'd spent endless nights talking her out of blaming herself. Did he hold her blameless because she was his wife? Or because Joe hadn't been kidnapped and in fact, hadn't been harmed at all? Regardless, she had committed the same 'sin' the Cutters had – one he had never been able to forgive them for. Frustrated, he sat back and turned away from the computer, staring out the window on the opposite wall.

He felt haunted by his own actions and 'non' actions. How many times had Carole called over the years, asking about Joe; wanting to speak to Laura? What if he'd told Carole, just once, that Joe was okay and hadn't remembered a thing? He couldn't help but wonder what path the Cutters' lives would have taken had he handled things differently. If he hadn't laid one hundred percent of the blame for Joe's abduction at their feet, would they have been less likely to blame themselves?

But they _were_ to blame; Fenton was certain of that. He had to be. To second guess himself now would mean he'd been wrong all these years, and that was something he simply wasn't ready to admit. Feeling the beginnings of compassion trying to break through the years of anger and hatred, Fenton refused to acknowledge it. Turning back to the computer, he became the cool, detached investigator and spent the rest of the day concentrating on the task at hand.

By the end of the day, Fenton found himself at a dead end and began to wonder exactly why he was considered the best in his field. Dejectedly, he made his way out of the building and headed back to his hotel, not looking forward to another lonely evening spent missing his family and trying to block out the increasing guilt he felt whenever he thought about the Cutters.

Arriving back at the hotel, Fenton parked his rental car in the rear lot and got out, locking it with the remote. Pocketing the keys, he trudged towards the back entrance of his hotel, making a mental list of what he needed to do that evening. _'Background checks on the employees Kevin worked with on a daily basis; more thorough background checks on Andresson, Ellison and Brandenburg; check out their spouses and children.' _He smiled, adding one more item to the list. _'Call the boys.'_

"Excuse me, Mr. Hardy?"

Fenton turned and, recognizing the person who had called his name, smiled. "Hello. What brings you here?"

"I need to talk to you. It's about Kevin Cutter…"

oooOOOooo

Frank glanced at the long forgotten board game taking up most of the space on the coffee table and then back at his brother. He, Callie, Joe and Vanessa were seated on the floor in Joe and Vanessa's apartment. They had enjoyed a delicious dinner that Joe swore he and Vanessa prepared themselves, but Frank had his doubts, thinking it tasted an awful lot like the pasta served at Prito's Restaurant.

After clearing the table, the four had settled in the living room for coffee, dessert and a game of Trivial Pursuit. However, Joe had taken center stage almost thirty minutes earlier, animatedly recounting his and Vanessa's Internet search, trying to get ideas for wedding favors and attendants gifts. After the strained silence and cold shoulder of the past few days, Frank was happy to sit back and listen to Joe's lively recap.

"This one website had checklists for everything. I mean _everything_! A wedding cake checklist, a wedding flowers checklist - they even had a wedding day _hair_ checklist! A HAIR CHECKLIST!" Joe exclaimed leaning forward and waving his arms wildly for emphasis, knocking a few of the game pieces onto the floor.

Frank grinned. "I don't think a checklist will help your hair."

"Hey, I'll have you know women everywhere dream of running their fingers through my hair."

Vanessa eyed her fiancé. "Well, let them keep dreaming."

"I think that checklist is supposed to be for the bride," Callie said.

"Why?" Joe asked, both puzzled and amused. "Is she going to forget to bring her hair to the ceremony?"

"Don't even try to understand it, Joe. It's one of those things men will never 'get'," Frank told his brother. "So what else did this little search turn up?"

"Fruit candles," Joe replied seriously. "Three varieties to choose from, too! And personalized ice cream scoops. We get them inscribed with our names, put Jordan almonds in them, wrap them in tulle – whatever that is! – tie a ribbon around them and give them to everyone who comes to the wedding. Can you just see Chief Collig dishing out ice cream using a scoop inscribed with my name on it?" Joe laughed.

"Actually I was trying to picture you surrounded by tulle and ribbon, tying little bows," Frank teased.

"Then there was the personalized hot sauce," Joe continued, ignoring Frank's gibe. "You can get regular hot sauce or hot and spicy. And they make up these cool labels to put on the bottles with our name on them! Hardy Hot Sauce!" Joe grinned.

"That was your favorite?" Callie asked, laughing. "Hardy Hot Sauce?"

"Actually," Joe replied, throwing Vanessa a devilish glance, "my favorite item was the glitter bride thong. I think Vanessa definitely needs to order _that_."

"There was one thing we both thought was interesting," Vanessa cut in, trying to change the subject. "Tiki torch centerpieces. I thought they might be cute for the rehearsal dinner. I was going to email the website to your Mom."

Frank glanced at Callie, who smothered a grin. "Van, are you sure that's such a good idea?"

Vanessa looked confused. "Why not?"

"Joe… Biff… an open flame on every table…" he said, seriously. "How long do you think it would take before they burned the place down?"

"Hey!" Joe protested as the other three burst out laughing. He turned to Vanessa, trying to look appropriately hurt. "I thought you were supposed to be on _my_ side!"

"I'm always on your side, Baby," she leaned in and kissed him. "But Frank does have a point."

Joe crossed his arms over his chest and pouted. "Fine. No tiki torches on the tables." The pout quickly morphed into a wicked grin as Joe eyed Frank. "Maybe we can go for elegance instead."

All too familiar with the look in his brother's eyes, Frank was wary. "Such as?"

"Folded napkins," Joe said, straight faced.

"Folded napkins?" Frank repeated as a little voice in his head screamed at him not to let Joe goad him into playing this game. No matter how quick he was with a comeback, he never won.

"Yeah. Folded napkins. Simple. Elegant. And there's eleven different ways they can be folded." Joe was deadly serious. "With your photographic memory it wouldn't take you long to learn them all."

"Me?!"

"Of course, you. You're the best man. As such, it's your responsibility – no your _duty_ – to oversee the napkin folding," Joe said dramatically.

Frank could see Joe was on a roll and judging by the giggles coming from Callie and Vanessa, there would be no stopping him.

"I don't recall you folding any napkins for my wedding," Frank said dryly.

Joe shrugged. "Hey, just because you didn't think to ask, don't blame me. Just make sure you know those folds inside out, upside down and backwards. After all, one incorrectly folded napkin could ruin the whole wedding. And it would be on your head." Joe nudged Vanessa as he prepared to deliver the final blow. "You wouldn't want to be forever known as the guy who destroyed his little brother's wedding would you?" On cue, Vanessa leaned her head on Joe's shoulder as they both adopted suitably devastated expressions.

Callie leapt up, clapping enthusiastically. "Bravo! Bravo!"

Frank turned on his wife, glaring. "Do _NOT_ encourage him!"

"Oh, come on Frank," Callie laughed. "That was one of his best performances."

"Traitor," Frank muttered.

"I bet those tiki torches are looking pretty good right now, huh?" Joe smirked.

The ringing of his cell phone cut off Frank's reply. He glanced at the number displayed as he answered. "Hi, Sam." He listened, saying nothing. His eyes narrowed and he clenched his teeth. "Uh-huh. Yeah." A muscle in his jaw twitched. He looked at Joe. "We'll meet you there."

Frank disconnected the call, his eyes locked on Joe. "Dad never checked in tonight. Sam's meeting us at the airport. We're going to Phoenix."


	19. Chapter 19

Here you go, JamesSmith. :-)

**Shared Sorrow**

**Chapter 19**

Fenton sat in the car staring at the man in the driver's seat. He wished he could see Vincent Ellison's eyes, but the Chief Financial Officer of Myelin Manufacturing stared straight ahead, out the windshield. The man appeared nervous and scared, but not dangerous. They were seated in Ellison's car in an out-of-the-way corner of the hotel parking lot. The security lights around the lot barely illuminated the inside of the car, not allowing Fenton a good look at Ellison's face.

"You said you had information about Kevin?" Fenton asked, hoping to get Ellison talking. He was getting a sense that Vincent Ellison was somehow connected to Kevin's disappearance. But Ellison was anxious and edgy, acting more like a frightened victim than a criminal with something to hide.

"I – I don't even know where to start," Ellison said wearily.

"Do you know where Kevin is?" Fenton hoped if he got Ellison started with a few leading questions, the rest would come tumbling out.

"Yes."

"Is he alive?"

Ellison looked at Fenton fearfully. "Yes, of course!"

"Did he steal the money from the pension fund?"

Ellison sighed and leaned his head back against the seat, rubbing his eyes tiredly. "No, he didn't."

"But you know who did." Fenton saw a look of pure anguish pass over Ellison's face. When he answered, his voice caught in his throat.

"My son stole it."

"How is Kevin involved?" Fenton asked, keeping his initial task in mind – find Kevin Cutter. He could deal with whatever else Vince Ellison revealed afterwards.

"It's all my fault." Ellison's voice broke and the floodgates opened. "I was so distracted with Stephen, the theft, the threats… I accidentally put the CD in with some others Kevin needed for the project he was working on. He's an intelligent young man; it didn't take him long to figure out what was on it. I went to talk to him, to try and convince him not to say anything." Ellison finally turned and looked at Fenton. "I was in the process of trying to reimburse the pension fund for what Stephen had taken. I had no idea it would get so out of hand. I was just trying to protect my son."

Even in the dim light, Fenton could see the look of grief on Ellison's face and he knew exactly how the man felt. Protecting his son. How many times had Fenton been in that same position? Luckily he succeeded more times than he failed but still, those failures were the ones he remembered so vividly. Forcing himself to remain focused, he gently prodded Ellison to continue.

"Your son, Stephen. He works for Myelin also?"

Ellison nodded. "In payroll. It's his job to set up the automatic deductions taken from the employees' paychecks each month. Taxes, voluntary medical savings accounts, retirement plans. He's supposed to make sure they are correct, make any changes the employees want, things of that nature."

"So he has easy access to both the employee payroll and the pension fund account."

Ellison nodded again, clearly tormented by his son's dishonesty. "He's a good man. He really is. He just…he got caught up in…" Ellison swiped at his eyes and took a deep, shuddering breath. "Gambling. He's become addicted to gambling. I had no idea until my daughter-in-law came to me about a month ago. He didn't want her to know how much he was losing so instead of using their savings or credit cards he got a… loan." He looked at Fenton again, sorrow filling his eyes.

Fenton easily read between the lines. "Loan sharks."

"I thought I could just pay off his debt and that would be it. He wants to get help for his gambling. He understands he's addicted and he wants to stop. No one had been hurt. He kept track of all the money he took from the pension fund, every penny, so he could eventually pay it back. That's what the CD was for." His voice trailed off as his train of thought suddenly veered in a different direction. "Marcus and I go way back. I was fairly certain that if I explained everything to him, he'd let me reimburse the pension fund, get help for Stephen and keep it all quiet. I mean, no one other than Stephen was really hurt by all this."

Fenton's mind was running at top speed as all the pieces finally fit into place, but he remained quiet, letting Ellison continue.

"I guess being a law abiding citizen all my life, I was pretty naïve. I found out there is no such thing as paying off a debt to loan sharks."

"It's rare," Fenton agreed. "Criminals don't really like to negotiate."

"Once they found out I was willing to pay off Stephen's debt they tripled the amount of interest. Said if I didn't like it I could go to the police. I've been blessed in my career and have amassed a considerable amount of money, but even I can't pay what they want, not on a continual basis. Eventually I'd be wiped out."

"And still in debt to them."

"Exactly." Ellison stared out the window for a moment, seeming to be caught between disbelief and despair. "Then Kevin accidentally got involved and that complicated matters even worse."

"What exactly happened there?" Fenton asked, not having been able to discern how he figured into the picture.

"I thought I had everything taken care of. When I explained to Kevin what had happened, he agreed to remain silent as long as Marcus agreed to my plan." He shook his head again, this time in frustration. "But Stephen was panicking. He made a stupid – _stupid_ – mistake! He thought if the loan sharks knew someone else was involved now, someone they had no hold over, they'd accept the money I'd paid them up to that point and call it even."

"Criminals don't usually work that way."

"That much I did know. When they found out Kevin knew what was going on, they told Stephen they'd 'take care of him'," he looked at Fenton, haunted. "I couldn't let them kill an innocent man. Not under any circumstances."

"So what happened to him?"

"I realize now what a chance I took, but I felt like I was backed into a corner. I told them I would take care of Kevin. I guess they figured if I killed him there was no way I'd ever go to the police, so they agreed."

Even if Ellison hadn't already told him Kevin was alive, Fenton knew the man wouldn't have killed Kevin. He was a man trying to protect his son, but he wasn't a killer.

"What did you do? Where is Kevin?"

Ellison turned and looked at him, a tiny smile on his face. "I told them I killed him and buried his body on the property near my vacation house. It's about an hour and a half outside of town. Very secluded area. Obviously Kevin can't be seen or they'll know I lied and kill him themselves. He's been staying in the basement of my vacation house."

"Voluntarily?"

Ellison flinched.

"Mr. Ellison – is Kevin there voluntarily, or is he being kept against his will?"

Ellison exhaled loudly. "At first he was there voluntarily. We thought it would only be for a few days. But things…they just kept escalating. After about a week he insisted he was leaving, going to the police and telling them everything. I still thought I could handle everything myself." He stopped speaking and turned towards Fenton, his eyes pleading. "I know now I am in way over my head with no way out. That's why I approached you tonight. I just want it to end. Can you help?"

"Before I agree to anything, I need to see for myself that Kevin is alive and unhurt," Fenton said.

Ellison never said a word. He simply started the car, backed out of the space and headed off into the night.

oooOOOooo

Frank drove steadily towards the airport, hands tight on the steering wheel. He and Joe had made a brief stop at their parents' house to tell Laura what had happened. Her initial reaction had been that she wanted to come to Arizona, to be close by when her husband was found. It took several minutes of persuasion on their parts, but they finally convinced her to stay in Bayport. Laura had made them promise to call the minute they knew anything, and then hugged them both. She had held tightly to Joe a moment longer, whispering something Frank couldn't hear. Watching them, Frank had had a chilling sense of déjà vu.

When he was a child, every time Fenton had to go out of town on a case, he would ask Frank to watch out for Laura and Joe, telling him he was the man of the house. Frank had always swelled with pride at those words, until the day Fenton left and didn't come home. It was the first time Fenton had been seriously injured on a case, and for a few days the doctors were unable to tell Laura if he would live or die. It was the first time Frank learned about death. He'd understood immediately that when daddy left the hospital he might be going to live with God instead of them. Joe had a lot more trouble grasping the concept of death and every day he'd ask Laura when daddy was going to wake up and come home. And every day she would pull him close, hold him tightly and whisper in his ear… just like she did tonight.

Shaking off the distressing memory, Frank recalled the day Fenton came home from the hospital. Laura had insisted the boys go outside to play so Fenton could rest, but Frank snuck back into the house, needing to talk to his father. Fenton listened patiently as Frank asked his father never to call him the man of the house again. In Frank's mind, being the man of the house now meant his father might never come home. While Frank assured Fenton that he would always watch over Joe and Laura when Fenton was away, he insisted there was only one man of the house – and that was Fenton. Afterwards, Frank had curled up on the bed next to his father, lulled to sleep by the reassuring beat of Fenton's heart. True to his word, Fenton had never again referred to Frank as the man of the house.

As he turned into the airport parking lot and found a space, Frank realized Joe hadn't uttered a word since leaving their parents' house. Looking at his brother, Frank saw Joe staring out the window, seemingly a million miles away. Reaching out, he gently touched Joe's arm. "Hey, are you okay with this?" He'd suddenly remembered Joe eliciting Fenton's promise that Joe would not have to be involved in the Cutter investigation at all. Frank assumed Joe's feelings had changed now that Fenton was also missing. Realizing they would probably have to come face to face with Jeff Cutter at least once, Frank wanted to make sure Joe understood it too, and that he was ready for it.

Joe didn't answer immediately as a look of mild confusion passed over his face.

"I think it's inevitable that we'll have to meet with Cutter at least once." Frank watched for Joe's reaction.

Joe seemed lost in thought for a moment and then looked at Frank. When he shrugged his shoulders resignedly, Frank knew he _hadn't_ thought that far ahead. "Yeah…I guess we will," Joe finally acknowledged. "I don't know how I really feel about that. But I do know that I want to find Dad and bring him home. If I have to see Uncle Jeff to accomplish that, well…I don't know…" his voice trailed off but not before Frank heard the nervous edge to it. "I'll cross that bridge when I come to it."


End file.
